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4c.
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^
C^^<^^^— ^3
JACK ASHORE.
BY THE AUTHOR OF
RATTLIN THE RE:EFERr •* OUTWARD BOUND,**
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
LONDON :
HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER,
GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
1840.
LONDON :
IBOTSON AMD PALMSR, PRINTKRS,
AAVOVSTRKST, STRAND.
TO THE
¥OK£MAST MEN OF HER MAJESTY^S ROYAL NAVY,
THB TALE OF
"JACK ASHORE"
IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED,
KOT ONLY AS A TBIBUTB
TO THEIR STERLING AND WELL-TRIED WORTH,
BUT AS AN HUMBLE ATTEMPT
TO PROVE TO THE WORLD AND TO THEMSELVES
THE ELIGIBILITY AND THE HONOUR
OF THEIR STATION IN LIFE,
BY
THEIR OLD SHIPMATE AND FRIEND,
EDWARD HOWARD.
AN APPEAL
TO
THE liADIES OF ENGLAND
IN rAVOVB OF
"JACK ASHORE."
Ye Island-bom ! ye beautiful ! To you.
All trustingly, the rough and sea-wom bard
Meekly for your protection turns to sue ;
Nor with contempt his strains will ye discard.
Though to your gentleness they may seem bard,
Mix'd with the sounding waves, whose refluent roar
Is the loud hymn of empire. As a guard
With never-ending song, from shore to shore.
These rude waves girt ye round with safety ever-
more !
VI AN APPEAL
Guards may turn traitors^ and the false waTes be
The bearers^ not the barriers^ to the foe ;
But whilst the British tar is on the sea
No hostile host the realms ye grace shall know.
Free in your island home as breezes blow.
In all untouch'd^ save the too yielding breast^
You hold your sway. To him alone you owe
This reign of peace, this never-changing rest — "
In which, while blessing us, ye are yourselves thrice
blessed.
Precious and sweet is your pre-eminence
O'er every other nation's boasted fair ;
Not in your beauty only, but in sense,
In virtuous lore, and those endowments rare
That earthly, less than heav*nward thoughts de.
clare ;
For such perfections we should seek in vain
Where war's fierce vulture hovers in the air.
For you, the brave wayfarers of the main
Have made your country long of peace one splendid
fane.
ft
Honour the bold withstanders of the storm !
Honour the humble warriors of the wave !
Those who, when Danger's gaunt and varying
form
Shows ghastliest, ever prove themselves most brave.
TO THE LADIES OF ENGLAND. Vll
Protect and honour ! whilst the waters lave
The shores he oft has saved^ and still will save —
Honour the sailor ; to his voice attend ;
Whether his fitful word be gay or grave :
Also to him support and favour lend^
^Vho tells Jack's honest tale, and fain would prove
his friend.
Nor class the records of Jack's wild career
With vulgar trash, or Newgate — spawn'd romance.
By taste abhorr'd, offensive to the ear ;
Where villaiiies in vilest words advance
Claims for renown, and Shame looks on askance.
While, through the tale that ends on Tyburn tree.
Ideas deprav'd in felon phrases dance.
Jack's language is all strong, and strange, and free.
As his bold nature is, yet pure as his own sea.
The lowly is not law, the humble mean ;
The violet trod beneath men's careless feet.
Than weeds of loftier bearing, gaudier sheen.
Is worthier far. In life obscure we meet
Souls in ail nature's nobleness complete.
Thus humble Jack, with hope's most ardent glow.
For your protection. Ladies, will entreat.
Since, great in Virtue's lowliness, ye know
The humble is not the meauy the lowly not the low.
vm AN APPEAL.
And thou, first Ladt of the world ! So sweet
In youUij so bland in beauty, and so blest
In prayers and wishes million-Toiced I 'tis meet
That thou, ^* bright yirgin throned in the west/'
Shouldstj as the Qubin of sailors be addrest-
They love thee well those ** hearts of oak," and hem
Thee round with regal safety ; and the best
Ray of thy glory owest thou not to them ?
The rule of the yast sea is thy crown's brightest gem .
If haply thine eye should fall upon this page,
Thou'lt learn the warrior mariner to prize.
Loyal to thee in manhood, youth, and age.
On trackless paths, not only bold but wise.
He goes his way, confiding in the skies.
To serve his country, and to honour thee.
Then let him find all favour iu thine eyes :
Proud of thy realms, still prouder shouldst thou be
As the bold seaman's Queen— Queen of his subject
sea.
NOTICE
TO TBB
READERS OF "JACK ASHORE."
Tub author is not about to write an essay on
k vrai et le vraisemblable^ but only to advance
the opinion, that, to the reflective mind, the
true ought to be acknowledged as the probable.
If, in the course of nature, the probable only
occurred, we should live in a very common-
place world indeed, and not only poetry and
romance would lose all their charms, but
history, also, would be wanting in some of its
greatest attractions. The aberrations of events
are much more wild and eccentric than those
NOTICE.
of character; the writer* therefore, of fiction
will do well if he regard only the true in his
incidents, yet keep strictly to the probable in
describing the persons who work out, and those
who are affected by, the events.
The two principal incidents of the following
story — the undiscovered abstraction of the
figure-*head of the Glory, and the will of accu-
mulation for successive generations — are both
founded strictly upon fact. There are many
seamen, and some officers, still living, who cail
vouch that an event, precisely similar to that
described as having occurred on board the
Glory, actually took place ; and, as to the pro-
visions of the singular will, any one conversant
with legal cases, or at all cognisant of legal
history, will satisfy the dubious reader that a
similar testament was really made, enrolled,
and acted upon for many years, and ultimately
set aside by a decision of the Lord Chan-
cellor.
If, therefore, the two incidents upon which
NOTICE. XI
the story of ** Jack Ashore** depends, should
startle by their singularity, I have no other
defence to make, than to aver that they are
modified truths; and should they appear im-
probable, the author must have failed in tact
of description, and not the reader in philoso-
phical apprehension.
CONTENTS
OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
Chaptkr I.— Some aecovnt of the Old Gloiy, beginmng with
hm stem ; and of her captain, beginning with hia head-—
Btitumia. Fame, Old Ocean, and many more offenders,
brought before a cabin council — ^It aeema to go hard with
then, bot a timely inteimptioniDterposeB between them and
theaentence ..... Page 1
CaAPTsa II. — ^The Court of Condemnation interrupted — A
miaBion arrirea that provea mischieroua — Captain Firebrasa
grows nsofre ftuiona, but out of fury mercy ia bQrn-<-The
fiunily %nre-head of the* Old Glory aayed— for a time 16
Cbiptib in. — Captain Firebrasa grows quite parental in his
care for his family— Buys cosmetics for them, and paints
their fiioea The gloiy of the said family— The honouxs paid
to then— They mysteriously disappeaz^— The consternation
of the officers, and the agony of the Captain— Job was not
the only man in affliction who found comforters Si
XIV CONTENTS.
Chapter IV «— Consists onlj of a fewDecessaiy introductions,
and a little dissertation upon character — the perusal of
which ought not to be omitted, though the author has
attempted to be sensible . . .48
Chapter V.— Sir Edward, in search ofbad news, finds a wife
maj be had for the asking — Bandies compliments with a
lawyer — Gets the worst of it, and a little fright into the bar-
gain — If the spoon must be long for the man who eats soup
with the dark one, how should he be furnished when he
goes to dine with an attorney t— A few secrets in paragraph-
writing . . . . • .68
Chapter VI. — To our own great satisfaction we get afloat
again — We make our acquaintance more intimate with Jack
— He does the amiable with the gods and goddesses of
the figure-head — They cut and run, and leave him in the
lurch — Jack in his hammock, and in much jeopardy . 85
Chapter VII. — Loose thoughts on the lust for wealth — How
to make lords of your distant posterity— Much about pe*
. digree and pettifogging, and other matters as dry as an old
parchment • . .101
Chapter VIII.-— Off to sea again — Jack still afloat, and in a
scrape— Makes a bad band at saring his back~-Things
look dismal — Jack in the bilboes, and the captain bilious —
The captain of marines manoeuvring with a long story 1^4
Chapter 1X«— One foot on sea, and one on shore— Constant
never^-Much about love and law ; the law viewed lovingly,
and the love lawfully — Good advice ill received, and a very
intereating conversation upon matters matrimonial . 130
CONTEXTS. XV
Cbaptxb X^ — Intdrrapdona — A long leeaoD od magnanimit/
— A nee betfreen trorldlj interest ind bigb principle ;
for once higb principle trios; upon which ensae high
moires, and, sing^arly enough, tber are acted up to—
Socb things sometimes happen in novels • .150
CmArtsM Xl«— On board the Glory again — The marine offi-
cer's jaro — ^Amiable ioterraptioos — The skipper plays ex-
positor — How to go in cbsse of your nose, and to recorer
it — ^Att excellent and pleasant moral may be. extracted from
a Tery bad and an unpleasant dream 161
Cntma XII.»-Tfae laws of gallantry as respects our gallant
tsi»— Tbe bnmboat woman and her daughter, and love in
a bimboat^A lower-deck romance— Jack in trouble with
two comforters— A touch of the heroic very vulgarly touched
upon— Specimens of nautical orations, in ichich delicacy
is a little sacriBced to yigour — All bands turned up to
see the sea captain turn over the leaves of the articles of
. . • • 176
Cbaptcb Xni. — ^The miseries of suspense-mental not so soon
over as suspense-cervical-^A little touch of the classical
produced by a contemplation of the bnmboat woman —
Much excitement and anxiety— Change for a penny wanted
— Captain Firebrass uncivil . .198
CBAPTtn XIV. — ^The skipper in a fair way of being dis-
appointed — Blutiny in the shore-boats, and something near
it OB board — The Old Glory boarded and taken — Change
for a penny procured at last — Much edification attempted
— ^The man of law gets the better of the man of war — and
omch hostility terminated in an amicable conference . 213
XVI CONTENTS.
Chaptbr XV.— Jack, being oast off, has a yery pleasant
meetings—Much exhilaration, and more exaltation, with
some explanation that makes matters more confosed — Jack
trims sails, trims himself, and gives Poll a trimmings— Very
hnmbly makes for the cabin, and plays the great man with-
out knowing it ..... 230
Chaptbr XVI.— Jack's going on shore— Much argufication,
which goes only to prove Jack a good fellow— The ladies in
his way, and thus he is waylaid, as be makes his way
to land — On the way gets into cold water, which gets him
into hot wateih— A lawyer's speculations • . 248
Chaptbr XVII.— Jack's ashore— Most triumphant doings —
Deputations of the tribes go forth to meet him— He is half
killed with kindness — ^The law at a discount, and honesty
not yet at par— A lawyer's soliloquy . • 273
Chaptbr XVIII.— Polly political— Does the gracious and the
grand, and borrows money with all the nonchalance of a lady
of quality- Jack grows dignified, and a judge of music,
and a little more sober and sensible— A lawyer at a nonplus
—Makes a motion, and takes nothing by it . . 290
JACK ASHORE.
CHAPTER I.
Heuts of oak are onr ships, hearts of oak are our men/'
Old Sono.
SoBie account of the Old Glory, begniiing with her stem ; and
ofhercaptain, heginniog with his head^-Britannia, Fame,
Old Ocean, and many more offenders, brought before a cabin
eooncil — ^It seems to go hard with them, bat a timely in-
tomption interposes between them and the sentence.
Did any person yet hear tell of what liecame of
the figure-head of the jolly Old Glory ? We
think that we may safely take it upon ourselves
to say that that mystery has never been — ay,
VOL. I. B
4 JACK ASHOfiE.
eDcircled something closely resembling a
Smyrna fig-jar, out of which rushed a wooden
stream of water. Whom this venerable old
man was meant to represent, it was never satis-
factorily decided. Some said he was Old Ocean
himself, and Neptune's own father, whilst others
maintained that he was only Father Thames.
However, he looked very dignified with his
copper nose ; for having lost his wooden one by
a discharge of grape (this grape has always
been inimical to the human nose) in Lord
Howe's action, he was fitted with a copper
substitute, and it was as goodly a nasality as
ever yet was gathered in the promontory of
noses.
These three figures, Britannia, Fame, and
the dubious old man, occupied the front row,
for the lion was, though couchant, a little ad-
vanced ; but behind these, Graces, and hand-
maidens, and little boys and girls, blended
together in most amicable confusion. What
they were doing, or were supposed to be doing,
was as great a mystery as what became of them
all. True, as no possible occupation could be
JACK ASHORE. O
assigned for them, either on the face of the
earth heneath, or the waters upon or under the
earth, they must have had their apotheosis, and
gone off straight to the heavens above.
In a word, this figure-head was so large and
so numerous, that it was as much the annoy-
ance as it was the pride of the crew of the
Glory ; for the group occupied so much room
in the space circumscribed by the head-rails,
that there was barely room enough left to wash a
shirt in the middle watch, or to decide a point
of honour pugilistically between any two jolly
tars who might happen to have some little affair
€f the sort upon their fists.
There is no doubt at all in this world,
and a great deal less in any other, but that
Admiral Lord Gambroon was a good and
worthy man ; that is to say, if we take him at
his own estimation, and at that of his admirers.
But he was one of those good men who do a
great deal of mischief; and we are inclined to
believe that the disappearance of the figure-
head of the Glory might be very fairly trace
b JACK ASHORE.
able to his lordship, though we do not venture
to speak positively as to that matter.
But, positively, and very positively indeed,
we will speak to this — that the captain of the
old Glory was one of the most irascible of all
the sea-captains that ever strove to swear down
a storm, or to out-hurricane a hurricane. Fy
upon you. Captain Firebrass! do you think
that men's eyes and limbs, bodies and souls,
were only created for you to damn into all manner
of heaps, masses, infinities, infernalities, parts,
and particles ? We are ashamed of you, Captain
Firebrass, and seriously ask you if you ever
expect to go to the glory above, if you make
such a swearing ship of your Glory below ?
Not that Firebrass was a cruel man-— far,
very far from it; he punished less than any
captain in the fleet — ^he loved his men — ^he was
their friend in health, and their very father in
sickness. But though he kept them at once in
love and fear of him, he could not keep his
temper; a burst of passion was, to him, no-
thing more than a gentle excitement-— a rage was
a relief.
JACK ASHORK. 7
Now, when Firebrass first took the command
of the Glory, he rather disliked her elaborate
figure>head. He snuffed his nose up at it in a
r^ular Cambrian rage, d d it through all
his rich variations of commination, as being in
execrable taate^ as holding too much wind, and
by its weight straining the head timbers. But
his hate was soon changed to love» his con-
tempt to admiration, and his wish to de-
stroy to an imxiety to preserve it, as he
would his own good name, or the honour of
his country.
But, before we tell you how this love on the
part of Captain Firebrass for his figure-head
was begotten, cherished, and how it grew up
to such a pitch of enthusiasm, we will tell you
a little about the captain himself. He was a
small, oompactly^built man of fifty — a man
who had certainly been handsome, but now his
wiry and curliug gray hair, and the eager rest-
lessness of his features, made him appear cer-
tainly old, and constructively ugly. We say
constructively, for the features were, in them-
selves, regular, his eye was sharp and black.
8 JACK ASHORE.
and his teeth perfect. Perhaps the colour of
his couDtenance was its most offending quality :
it was of a lively, universal red. Nothing but
his head-rail {vulguse^ teeth) was white, or ap-
proaching to white, about it. Even the parts
of the eye that are called its whites, were^ in
him, so reticulated by bloodshotten veins, that
they were nearly as red as the lips of a lady who
has just used a cosmetic. You fancied, as you
looked upon him, that by some strange process,
chemical or magical, he had been made red-hot,
and that he intended so to remain whilst he lived.
The phenomenon of Bardolph's nose was that
of Firebrass^s whole man. He could always
heat his own bath, and that is something in so
chilly a climate as ours.
Irritable men are, in general, honest We
do not, by this, mean to say that it is a universal
axiom — very far from it; but people of the
irritable temperament seldom give themselves
time enough to enable them to deceive. Fire-
brass was the plainest speaking man in the
whole Channel fleet ; and, in such an aggregate
of plain speakers, that is saying a great deal.
JACK ASHORE. 9
thoagfa it is not saying more than was actually
the truth. He hated hypocrisy, and was too
esger to attribute that vice to all who laid
daim to anything more than the current reli-
gion and morality of the day, or of the dass in
which he mingled. Our friend, the reader,
may depend upon it, that the anecdote we
are going to relate belongs to Firebrass,
and to none other, though it has been at-
tributed to several very gallant officers. It is
as follows.
After the memorable and very brilliant vic-
tory of the first of June, when the captains who
had so bravely assisted to gain it had assembled
00 board the commander-in-chiers ship^ to
congratulate that gallant admiral, and to felici-
tate each other, Rear-admiral Lord Gambroon,
of course, took the lead. Upturning his eyes,
as if to make a shrewd guess as to the height
of the mizentop, and folding his hands very de-
niarely before him, he snuffled out, in a tone
more suitable to the conventicle than the quar-
ter-deck —
B 5
10 9ACK A8U0RK.
'* We have gained a glorious victory, and I
prayed for it.*^
At this very commendable observation, the
impatience of our Firebrass burst forth; so,
thrusting his inflammable visage close to the
pale features of the saintly admiral, he said,
very improperly, and, we must remark, very
impiously,
" You prayed for it, did you, my lord ?
Then you got it damned easily, for I fought
for it-**
We are sorry to record that this observation
was received with more mirth, and even appro-
bation, than it ought to have been ; and we only
record it at all, in order the more fully to elu-
cidate this profane captain's character. How-
ever, as meek and right-minded Christians, we
have the consolation of knowing, that if Captain
Firebrass did not repent and reform in his
latter days, he will certainly not go to the same
place as Lord Gambroon.
The admiral did not relish this repartee, so
he reproved Firebrass for making it ; and, as
JACK ASHORE. 11
it may be easily judged how acceptable a thing
reproof was to a man of the captain of the
Glory^s character, it is not to be wondered
at that this very nearly proved a court-
martial business. It neither increased the
oflTender's love for the person nor the principles
of his lordship^ though it proved the abound-
ing cause of love for the once undervalued
figure4iead«
Captain Firebrass was in the very act of
holdiog a council of condemnation upon the re-
nowned group that we have taken so much
trouble to describe. In this jury of destruction
he was assisted by his first lieutenant, the mas-
ter, the boatswain, and the carpenter. They
said all manner of scandalous things about the
ladies and gentlemen who occupied a station
80 prominent. The first lieutenant had vilified
it as a matter of taste ; Britannia herself was
not half so handsome as Molly Tearaway, of
the Halfway-houses; the Graces were mere
trollops, and no decent Jack would pick the
best of tbem up in High-street, unless he had
just come off a long cruise ; and as to Madam
12 JACK ASHORE.
Fame, she was a disgrace to the sex ; to say
nothing of the false nose of the old man with
the fig-jar.
The master was rather favourable to the com-
pany than otherwise^ seeing that he did not
think the undressed ladies quite so ugly as the
first lieutenant wished to make them appear.
Comparisons were odious; but, as a married
man, he had some right to speak on these mat-
ters ; this, however, he would say, that if Mrs.
Trestletree, the good lady his wife, had but
half so quiet a tongue in her head as the
worst of them, all he could say was, that
perhaps he might not be so anxious to go
foreign. The little boys and girls, and some
of the ladies, were stark-naked, it was true;
but a dab of paint, or a few feet of half-inch,
and that would be remedied ; besides, he
must confess, that, being a family man, he
had no objection to the children, and as they
neither asked for bread and butter, nor cried,
besides getting their faces washed for nothing
whenever there was anything of a head sea,
which made them very cleanly, he thought that
JACK ASHORK. 13
tbey might remain a little longer where they
were — unless the captain wished them removed.
The boatswain confessed that they ran him
pretty rigs with the running rigging. Though
their faces were so fair, something was always
getting foul among them ; — in fact, cleanly as
Mr. Trestletree said they were, they were
always fouling the sheets — the fore^staysail and
jib-sheets especially. Yet, after all, he bore
them no enmity, and he should be sorry to see
them condemned without a hearing. What
the good boatswain meant by his last observa-
tion was never fully explained.
The carpenter was for their destruction
wholly and totally. They always required
mcwe paint than they were worth, and were
ooDtinually losing their features and their mem-
bers. When these losses were replaced, they
never gave satisfaction. It took more time to
make a little finger for Fame than to make a
new maintopmast; then she was continually
kising the head of her trumpet ; and the
children were always in want of something.
The only difficulty with the carpenter was how
14 JACK ASHORB.
to occupy the space when the group should be
removed.
At this precise moment the discussion took
another turn.
JACK ASHOKB. 15
CHAPTER II.
Hearts of ode are oar ships ; jollj tais are our men/*
Tte Court of CoDdernDStion interrapted — A miisioii arrires
tliat proves mischieTOos — Captain Hrefarass grows more
fiuioas. Vat oat of fary mercj is born— The famil/ figure*
head of the Old Glorj sared — for a time.
We left our five worthies in deep debate, in
which it was very apparent that, as their minds
were made up before the debating commenced^
their unanimity of opinion would be won-
derful when the form of the debating should
cease. Not one of the parties so engaged, but,
up to the very last moment, would have main-
tained stoutly that the Old Glory would shortly
be deprived of that worst of all encumbrances,
a numerous family.
16 JACK ASHORE.
Captain Firebrass was at a loss only as to
the manner of getting rid of them — whether
he should enter it upon his log-book that they
were washed overboard in a gale of wind, or
endeavour to remove them more legally and
fairly by signing a certificate that their weight
caused the ship to labour, or to compass their
destruction by the means of favouritism and
solicitation. Never had a family so innocent,
enemies so numerous and so implacable. But
their hour of triumph was at hand — their day
of renovation was dawning ; they were about
to commence a new existence of honour, of mag-
nificence ; and pride was to bow down before
them, and to be humbled. But this course of
glory was to last neither for years nor months
— ^they were to blaze forth like a comet, and
to depart for ever and for ever.
The Glory was, at this time, lying at anchor
with the rest of the Channel fleet at Spithead.
The court-martial on the figure-head was pro-
ceeding in the cabin, when an officer entered,
with a letter from the Rear-admiral Lord 6am-
broon. This was sufficient to disturb all Cap-
JACK ASHORE. 17
tain Firebrass^s calmoefls. He daDoed about
with the letter in his band, nearly choked by
the multiplicity of oaths that were crowding up
his throat for utterance; at length twenty
Kemed to rush forth simultaneously, which
aSbrded him so much relief that he was enabled
to break the seal, and he then commenced read-
ing aloud.
^* ' Dear sir !^ — how dare he dear me ! dear
derfl ! The canting psalm-singings hymn-
chanting, hypocritica], old stave-spoiling, brim-
stone-singed sinner.**
'' Who, sir T* said the first lieutenant, half
tremblingly, half soothingly.
" Who, sir ?" replied the irate man ; ** who,
dr? What^s that to you, sir.^ — damn you,
dr. ' Dear sir ;' oh ! I'd dear him. Tarred
and feathered. Cocks and hens ! — d n *
hencoops ! Zounds ! blood and ouns I^' And
with ToUeys of such amiable interruptions
be at length finished the missive. Yea, mis-
dve; we use the word advisedly, and with no
possible disrespect to the dogmas of the school
of fuhionable novel writers.. On any other occa-
c
the
hes
wei
en(!
faj.
JACK ASHORE. 19
harp-phying eaptain's clerk, who was quill-
driTiDg at the rate of twelve knots an hour^ iu
a remote and dark comer of the cabin. In the
mean time, the gmff old boatswain had smoothed
out the paper, until it bore something of its
original shape, and held it up daintily by one
corner. Whilst this was doing, the captain
went to pull his clerk's ear — a very vicious
haUt he had fallen into, having long ago case-
hardened that humble official against the im-
pression of aU manner of oaths.
Now when Captain Firebrass had seized the
delinquent's ear, his first lieutenant also seized
something more to the purpose, and that was
the opportunity of telling his brother officers of
the council of condemnation on the figure-head,
that the skipper was in a towering passion, and
that they should, to prevent everything from
turning blue, condemn the whole group at
once, cut it up for firewood, and expend in the
ship's log by blowing it overboard in the first
Channel breeze that crossed the ship's bows.
After the ear-pulling, with the operator's
grin, and the patient's squeak, had been duly
perfcHined, the captain strode again towards the
20 JACK ASHORE.
table, and staring his officers full in the face,
roared out, ** Well, gentlemen, demmee !**
** Sir," said the first lieutenant^ very humbly,
** with all due submission we are agreed. The
first night we are out at sea, we'll unship the
whole squad, expend them in a gale, and cut
them up for firewood. We're all agreed, sir —
we*ll do it — bless my heart !'*
And well might the first lieutenant beg a
blessing on his heart; for, as he spoke that which
he considered to be words of satisfaction and
pleasure to his commanding officer, that very
irrational person was. growing blue and livid
with rage. He had extended his arms, and
viciously grasped with either hand one side of
the table, and thus stooping over it, he brought
his head well forward, and rolled his eyes
furiously at his startled officers. They retreat-
ed, each two paces, in alarm. At first, a sufii>-
cated and gurgling noise only was to be heard
in the captain's throat. The oaths, in the boat-
swain's language, " were tumbling up." The
explosion at length took place ; but the com-
mencement consisted only of a mass of almost
inarticulate and disjointed interjections ; when
JACK ASHORE. 21
these had a little subsided, the words were some-
thing in this fashioD : —
*• Dare ye ? Dare ye ? D — n ye ! Would
ye dare tweak me! FirebrassI by the uose?
Would you spit upon roe — would ye kick me,
ye mutineers, would ye ? Don't speak — I know
you would sooner be eternally and intensely
d — d first ; touch a single joint, a hair of the
head, or a toe-nail of that glorious group !
sooner than any man should do such a thing
my nose shall be tweaked, my seat of honour
kicked, and I, Captain Firebrass, will become
the walking spittoon for the loblolly-boy. There
is not now a person in that figure-head that I
do not love, honour, and adore. The purser
shall victual them every man jack — ^lion and all.
They shall all be rated A. B. on the ship'^s
hooks; and 1*11 make petty officers of the little
boys and girls. You grin, do you ; but the
money shall come out of my own pocket.
Zoands ! blood and fury ! I know as well as
you, ye lubbers, that they can neither eat nor
drink, grog it or prog it ; but they can spend
their pay in paint ; sba'n't they look fine to-
22 JACK ASHOBK.
morrow ? — prankt up like May morning. Oh !
the incarnate, canting, hypocrite. Don't speak
yet, Tauthause — don't — I can't bear it, and
I^'m not mad either ; but only read that, and
say, as an honest sailor ought to speak, if it is
not enough to make one so ? "
Mr. Tauthause, the first lieutenant, having
duly received the missive from the tarry-fisted
boatswain, put on as much of a parson^s face as
he could assume, and prepared to read, whilst
Captain Firebrass prepared to listen. This
preparation was no easy affair to the latter. He
went to it as loathingly as would a man who is
told to take the easiest position possible, in
order that he may be comfortably hung. He
did, however, the best that he could* He sat
himself down on one of the chairs, and placing
his right leg over the left, he passed round the
former, just above the knee, a silk handker-
chief, after the manner of a tourniquet, and
thus, the angrier he grew, as his lieutenant
read on^ the tighter he drew his voluntary in-
strument of torture, thus making, as much as
it .was possible, physical neutralise mental irri-
JACK ASHORE. 23
tatioD. The offending document was to the
following effect : —
(Private.)
*' H.M.S. , at anehor off Spitiiead,
Jane 7th. 1797.
" Dear Sir, — I would roost gladly, on this
occasion, address you as a brother Christian,
and attempt to awake in your bosom a sense of
that future state which awaits sinners, where
there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth. I
do not mean anything offensive to you as an
officer and as a man of honour, but speak out
of the dear love that I bear to a soul in a state
of reprobation, when I tell you, that unless
yon repent, and that speedily, you will soon
find yourself so far gone on the broad path
that leads to eternal damnation, that you will
be a castaway, and expiate your sins in a
manner to which I will but barely allude.
^ But all this is only matter for your private
consideration. I wish to communicate with you
on what may be justly called public grounds,
and I hope that I may have to congratulate
24 JACK ASHORE.
you OD something like a glimpse of the true
light having dawned upon your darkened un-
derstanding. It has been reported to me, by
several persons, that you have spoken as being
much dissatisfied with the cumbrous, the
heathen, and the wicked group of idolatry, that
is a scandal to a religious mind, and which i&
so conspicuous on the head of the ship now under
your command. I will not now say anything
of the indecency of continually exposing images
of nakedness to the eyes of the tender youth
and innocence on board of the Glory. What I
most complain of is, that a sort of altar should
thus be raised, as it were, to the false gods of
the heathen mythology. There is a great
scope for doing true religion a service now in
your power. By a judicious use of paint, the
three principal figures may be turned into per-
sonifications of Faith, Hope, and Charity,
which are a Christianas true glory. The lion,
according to the spirit of the holy word, may
be, by the assistance of the carver, turned into
a lamb ; and with the addition of six or seven
pairs of wings, which will not cost more than
JACK ABHORS. 25
three-aod-fourpeDce a pair, the naked little
boys and girls may be made to represent
cbenibim and seraphim.
" As these alterations will, I know, put you
to some expense, and as I, humble sinner that
I am, would willingly have a hand in the good
work, I gladly make over to you all my in-
terest in a debt owing to me by one Phineas
Hordecai, who resides in Portsea, and although
he resists payment, yet the law, judiciously
aoid actively employed, will doubtless enforce it.
*^ Enclosed you will find a sketch of the
Christian alterations that you will make in the
group, and also my order on the said Phineas
Hordecai.
" As this communication must be considered
as non-offidal, you will act up to the well-meant
suggestions it contains, according to the light
and grace that are in you ; but scx>ner than that
heap of idolatry should remain, should you be
disinclined to alter it conformably to gospel
views, I would join you by using my interest
with the authorities to get the abomination re-
VOL. I. C
26 JACK ASHORE.
moved entirely, substituting instead a plaie
bust, or a scroll, or a fiddle-head.
** Yours in the covenant,
Gambroon/*
Now, the latter proposition in his lordship's
kindly-intentioned missive was, two hours be-
fore Captain Firebrass received it, the thing the
latter most desired to see effected. But now he
would as soon have parted with his right arm
as with the least fragment of the group.
They had become precious to him in their
totality.
When the reading of this epistle had con-
cluded, the captain had so much tightened his
tourniquet, that he had stopped the circulation
in the leg below it ; and when he attempted to
advance to give his orders, he first stumbled,
and then was obliged to hop ; and this he con-
tinued to do for some time, for his rage had
not permitted him to remember the cause of
his self-imposed suffering.
But all things must have an end, and such
JACK ASHOBE. 27
passions as our friend fell into could not, from
their very intensity, endure without destro\ing
the individual who gave way to them. The
sense of the ridiculous came to his relief; he
sat down again in his chair, and whilst he
relaxed his handkerchief, himself relaxed into
good humour. So rubbing, and tenderly
dioishing his still benumbed leg, he looked
memiy round him, and everything in the cabin
was sunshine-
^ Come here, Mr. Sneep," said he to his
cadaverous-looking clerk, *^ we shall sail in a
day or so ; you had better go home till the
blue Peter is flying, and comfort your poor
mother. By-tbe-bye, I think I owe her some
ten or twelve pounds. Here^ take it, my good
boy ; never mind what she says about the debt ;
she is old, and her memory not so good as it
used to be. There — make sail.^
The youth tottered away, and without utter-
ing a syllable, whilst a large tear trembled in
each eye, standing like two bright sentinels over
his feelings, for thus only were they expressed.
'* A good lad in the main," resumed the.
c 2
t?8 JACK A8H0BE.
captain ; ** but too apt to shove his oar into
the wrong boat. Now, gentlemen ; now, Mr.
Tauthause, the Old Glory shall be young
again ; we will — I say we will — be the gayest
ship in the fleet. Don^t think that I am fickle,
but I have really fallen in love with my glori-
ous, family forwards, and we will not chasten
those we love ; let us go forward directly, and
see in what state our proteges are."
So forward they all tumbled, the warrant-
officers much wondering what should have in-
duced the captain to call them by such a
terribly hard word, or words, the only part of
which they thought thiat they understood was,
that they were some kind of ** jays."
Now we must confess that this glorious
group of the Old Glory had been hitherto
shamefully neglected, the amendment of the
copper-nose notwithstanding. They were just
then painted universally of a dirty lead colour.
Many parts of their precious bodies that had
been united by means of iron, or copper clamps,
had become rusty, and now appeared as so
many open and unsightly wounds. The sur-
JACK ASHORE. 29
fiux of their skins was by no means smooth,
and their interesting bands and faces were
chapped in a manner that defied all the healing
powers of goose-grease. The story of King
Log and the Frogs had been repeated upon
them. At first, the joUy tars had treated them
with respect and even reverence, but familia*
rity, that breeding mother of contempt, had at
kDgth put them to very vile uses indeed.
Sometimes, when a foretopman had scoured his
trousers, he would, without the least remorse,
bang them over Fame^s trumpet to dry ; whilst
jou would see half a dozen pairs of well-worn
worsted stockings dangling round the immortal
wreath with which she was crowning Bri«
tannia.
Britannia, the empress of the seas, was not
more worthily used. Many a child's napkin
was hung over her redoubtable arm when the
ship was in port, and the seamen's wives and
children were on board; and, like Hecuba, she
flometimes wore a dishclout over her diadem.
When Jack was merry, he would clap a pipe
into any of the immortal mouths that hap-
30 JACK ASHORE.
pened to be nearest, and the prongs of Old
Ocean^s trident offered a very convenient means
to plat sinnet by. Sometimes you would see them
dressed in jackets and trousers, with straw-hats
placed jauntily on their heads, and sometimes
they were outrageously gay in all the red, blue^
and scarlet finery with which the Lucretias
that may be found on the Point of Portsmouth
are so ambitious to decorate their chaste per-
sons.
All these indignities were put upon these
worthies only when the ship was in ordinary, or
before eight bells in the morning, at sea. These
contumelies, like insults and neglects inflicted
upon humanity, left their marks behind. The
figures were not what they used to be, and had
the carver seen them in their state of dilapida-
tion, if he had been a carver of the least feel-
ing, he would have been terribly cut up —
that's all.
All this, as it should be, was going to be
speedily reformed.
JACK A8HOBE. 21
CHAPTER III.
Cipttiii Firebrus grows quite parental in bU care for fail
Cuaily— Bays oocmetics for them, aod paints their facee^—
The gioiy of the aaid familj— The honoars paid to then— >
Hiej Bjsterioojdj diaappeai^— The ooostenation of the
oficera, and the agony of the Captain— Job waa not the only
in affliction who foand comfortera.
BftiTAKNiA, Fame, and the Water-god) bad
been neglected much more than it could have
been thought possible, and, upon a close in-
spection, were found to be not presentable in
any decent company of gods and goddesses of
any decent mythology. Captain Firebrass, as
he contemplated their very filthy state, looked
remarkably graven and it was supposed that he
nghed once or twice in a manner the most
affecting. There may be some doubt as to this ;
32 7ACK ASHORB.
but it is very certain, that as he handled the
cfypper-nose of Old Ocean» he shook his head
thrice, in a manner so rueful, that you might
have supposed that he was in some state of con-
cern for the well-doing of his own.
But Firebrass was not, on an emergency of
this nature, a roan to consume his energies
and waste his time in idle regrets. He ordered
a sentry to be placed immediately over these now
cherished objects of bis affection, not only as a
sort of honourable body-guard, but to prevent
the least indignity being offered to them, either
by day or by night. The next thing done, was
the immediate repair of the greater dilapida-
tions; and when all the skill that he could con>*
mand on board was exhausted, the fiery skipper
went to Portsmouth and engaged the best
sculptors of whom the place could boast, and,
in the course of two days, the whole company,
not excepting the lion, were again in a state of
pristine youth and beauty, the ugly old man
with the urn particularly.
Then came Sculpture's sister art, Painting, to
crown the whole, " To the life, the very lif^**
JACK A8HOmE« 33
was the captain's continual cry. Such carna-
tions ! Sir Thomas Lawrence was a young man
then ; but be might have profited by them I
This operation Captain Firebrass watched with
the most intense anxiety and solicitudey spend*
ing whole hours under the bows in his gig.
*^ A little more red to Fame's larboard cheek,
if you please^ Mr.' Varnish I Very well, that
iriU do for the present. Britannia's starboard
cat-bead might be a blush more rosy, and place
me a dimple right amidships on the lady^s
chin* Give those little boys* sterns a touch more
rf colour, if you please^ and, for variety's sake^
give the brat nearest the lion a carroty poll."
Thus he passed the live-long day in making
the figure-head of the Glory the most re-
plendent assemblage of every striking and glar-
ing colour that the paint-pot could produce.
When finished, it was the admiration of the
fleet, and the &me thereof travelled on shore.
Gilding had not been spared, for wherever a
patch of gold leaf could be stuck on, there
would two patches be found. The fame there-
of, as we have just stated, reached the shore,
c5
34 lACK ASHORE.
and virtuosi tailors, and contemplative butchers
and shoemakers, made parties of pleasure to
come o£P in wherries to regard this stupendous
and happy effort of art. It is true, that the
very serious part of the civil community at
Portsmouth eschewed this exhibition, and for*
bad it to their wives and daughters, on account,
as they averred, of its indecency and profligacy ;
but, as this tended only the more violently to
excite the female curiosity of the place, there
was not one of the sex, between seven and
seventy, belonging either to Portsmouth, Gos-
port, Portsea, or the Halfway-houses, who could
not have given a minute description of all the
parts of this extraordinary sculpture.
It nearly drove Lord Gambroon mad ; but,
at the same time, it produced so- good an effect
on Firebrass, that, for the space of seven days,
he was in a heaven of a temper.
We are now approaching our first catas-
trophe. The Glory had been paid off the day
before, and when morning broke she was found
riding at single anchor, well to the seaward, the
outermost ship of the fleet. Every one knows
gTACK AAHOE£. 35
diat pay-day is the Saturnalia of a man-of-war^s
man. The ship is one scene of riot* fore and aft.
Od that day drunkenness is not punishable, and
ererything short of actual mutiny is winked at
As almost every one is supposed to go to bed
drunk, it is barely possible that a good look-out
can be kept. However, it is always presumed
that a sufficient number of marines are in a
state to mount guard at the different posts
throughout the ship. The officers, of course,
do not take a part in this general departure
from discipline and sobriety.
We are now going to record one of those
astounding facts which the world would deem
impossible^ if they had not really happened to
hare occurred. When day broken the whole
groups lion and all, had disappeared from the
head of the Old Glory ; her glory had departed
from her; and what made the mystery the
more inscrutable, the marine who was appointed
sentry over it had gone with it. The whole
had been removed in a most artist-like manner.
The copper-bolts by which it had been bound
to the stem and cutwater, and the iron guys
36 JACK ASHOBE«
and braces that had steadied and secured it to
the different parts of the head, had all been se-
vered with the proper instruments, and in a most
workmanlike style. When once in the water,
this disconsolate family would soon have floated
down Channel with the tide, if it had not been,
which was most likely the case, towed on shore
by some wicked 'and waggish thief.
The carrying off and robbing, not Britannia
of glory, but the Glory of Britannia, with Fame
also, her trumpet, and the newly painted lion,
was generally known throughout the ship a
little after four o'clock in the morning. People
were growing sober, and yet, when told of this
awful and incredible desertion, they fancied
themselves drunk still, or that their informants
were not themselves sober. Then came up men
from below in fives, tens, and twenties, to con-
vince themselves of what, even when seen, they
could hardly believe. All the officers were dis>
mayed and astounded. They felt the ridiculous
light in which they would appear to the whole
fleet, even if nothing in the shape of punish-
ment befel them for having kept a look-out so
JACK A8HOBK« 37
nuserftble and unseamaDlike, even though the
ship had been paid off the day before.
The first lieutenant was frantic, and the cap«
tain of marines wringing his hands in despair —
pow for the loss of the figure*head*-now for
the loss of his jolly. Now this jolly, or private
marine, who had thus mysteriously disappeared
with his charge, was the most sedate, steady,
and sober man on board. Indeed, he was looked
upon as something superior in his class. That he
could have been surprised by force was all but
impossible^ and that he was not drunk when he
went on guard was equally certain. Since he
had been in the ship, he had never been known
to commit any violation of temperance.
But who was to be the conveyer of the
abhorred tidings to the unsuspecting captain ?
He, good easy man, (for such he was — when he
was asleep,) was in the happiest of all morning
slumbers. His pets, his darlings, were dancing
lovingly around him in all manner of fantastic
and endearing attitudes. He was devising new
honours and fresh glories for them, his dear
pets, his loved darlings, now, alas ! lost to him
38 JACK ASHORE.
for ever. Innocent man I never again shall a
sleep so sweet close your eyes, or offer to
your senses incense in dreams so pleasant, and
imaginations so attractive.
But all this while Captain Firebrass dreams
on. Who shall dare to awake him to his misery ?
What voice is there that can unfold the dismal
tale, so as to convey with the baleful tidings
something soothing and deprecatory P It is a
desperate service, and the first lieutenant looked
round upon the assembled officers, and vainly,
for volunteers. Men who would have eagerly
sprung forward to seek
" The babble reputation, even in the cannon's mouth,**
now hung back like whipped dogs convicted
of pudding-stealing. Happily for all parties,
there was on board a third lieutenant of marines,
a milky-faced youth, with a marvellous paucity
of intellect. He was the son of the valet's
wife of Lord Fitzharding Fitzalbert, who was
one of the Lords of the Admiralty. This
young gentleman obtained his commission as
some slight reward for the painful services that
JACV ASHORE. 99
his father had rendered his country, in dressing
die hair of his lordship^ and in permitting his
handsome wife to take charge of his lordship's
wardrobe. Some people are but miserably
rewarded by an ungrateful country : but we
can't help that. Young Sep£t, this marine
officer, was told that it was his duty to report
the loss of the marine to the captain, as it was
his turn on guard, if any guard had been kept,
when the accident occurred ; and ** Mr. Sep^t,"
said the first lieutenant, ** you may just men-
tion that the whole figure-head, stock and fluke,
have deserted with the marine, and that the
cutwater is as bare as the palm of my hand;
you may just mention that, and see how the
captain takes it.''
** But what have I got to do with the figure-
head ?" said young Sep6t, who had just brains
enough in his own to perceive that it was a ser-
vice of some danger.
" Got to do with it ? titty vally— everything,
man ! The ladies were, constructively, under
your especial protection. .The man who had
the care of them was under your care. If you
40 JACK ASHORE.
had gone your rounds with your guard accord-
ing to the written orders, I dare say this would
not have happened. However, it's a mere
trifle — the loss of the man is the chief — come^ no
time is to be lost — march I**
Into the cabin under the poop the poor wretch
stole, and his brother officers, expecting a speedy
explosion, ranged themselves in two lines oppo-
site the door. They were not long in anxious
expectancy. In the space of two minutes, there
was heard a horrible clattering of oaths, and
then the door flew open, and Mr. Sep£t came
flying through the doorway, his hair standing
on end, and the captain^s foot in close contact
behind him, though very innocuously. If the
pursued was horror-stricken, there was some
excuse for his panic, for his pursuer was in his
shirt, his white night-cap on one side of his fiery
face, a boot -jack in one hand and a water-bottle
in the other — the latter pouring out its cold
stream upon his body unnoticed; and with
these weapons he was vainly striving to do
execution on the head of the young marine
ofiicer. Unconscious of his all but nudity, the
JACK A8HOR8. 41
exasperated captain gave chase to the maindeck,
down which his victim jumped and disappeared^
but not before the boot-jack and the water*
bottle were discharged at his unlucky head.
Seeing that the object of bis vengeance had
eluded him for the present, Captain Firebrass
Kerned to cx>me suddenly to a sense of his ridi-
culous situation, and seizing a watch-coat that
some considerate hand held out to him, he
enveloped himself therein, and turning piteously
to the group of officers, he exclaimed, '< What
is this I hear ?''
Up stepped the captain of marines ceremo-
niously, and endeavouring to speak and act as
officially as possible ; lifting his hat three inches
from his head, he said, ** Captain Firebrass, it is
my painful duty to acquaint you that Josiah
Gripplethwaite, one rank and file of Lieutenant
Sep£t*s subdivision of marines, whilst sentry
over the figure-head, has disappeared."
^* And the figure-head ?^ roared out the
great-coated impatience.
^ Has disappeared with him.**
** Impossible ! bitterly, damnably, incredibly
42 JACK ASHORE.
impossible ! The man could not have run off
with Fame, Britannia, Old Ocean, the lion,
and little children, each of them as big again
as himself/'
*^ Probably, sir, they ran qff with him, for
they are certainly gone,^ said the surgeon,
in his blandest tone. It was well for him, just
then, that he was a privileged person.
^ Mr. Tauthause, Mr. Tauthause, for God's
sake explain all this ; if there be any truth in
it) it will cost some of you your commissions ;'^
and Firebrass looked wicked enough to hang
every third man on the spot
^ The night," said the first lieutenant, ^* was
foggy and dark, all the seamen drunk, and the
marine on guard, either overpowered or con-
federate with the thieves. There must have
been several employed, for all the figures have
been removed, in a manner that could not have
been excelled by officers from the dock-yard."
'* T am utterly astounded ! The thing ap-
pears to be physically impossible. Was no
alarm given ; was no noise heard ? Where are
all the officers of the watch ?^
JACK ASHOBK« 48
Thej all appeared in succesaion, and gave, of
course^ the most satisfactory account of their
watches and themselves, and all sang to the
oone chorus as to the darkness and the fog. It
was hinted that the depredators must have come
OD board the day before, with some of the
tradesmen and slopsellers who were admitted on
the pay-day, and that, after they had performed
their work, a shore-boat must have been waiting
to tow away the group when it had been lowered
down into the sea. As this was the only pro-
bable conjecture that could be offered on the
occasion. Captain Firebrass was forced to
receive it for as much as it was worth, and then
forming a melancholy procession, of which the
captain took the lead, they marched slowly to
the scene of desolation.
As Firebrass went forward, every one gave
him a wide berth. He seemed now to be more
cast down than angry, and never spoke until he
had placed himself on the exact spot in front of
the ship's head, on the cutwater, where yes-
terday had stood in all her gold and glory the
highly rouged goddess. The exchange was a
44 JACK ASHORE.
pitiful one. We have before said that Fire-
brass was a small man, and the great-coat that
he had hastily snatched up to cover himself
with, did not at all add to the dignity of hia
appearance.
He stood disconsolately in this position for
some time, now looking into the water wistfully,
as if desirous there to end his intolerable misery
at once, and now fiercely around him, as seeking
for some victim to sacrifice to the memory of
the departed. The scene was too acutely mi-
serable to last long, for suddenly casting his
eyes on the flag of the pious rear-admiral, he
doubled his fist and shook it menacingly in that
hated direction ; then, slowly leaving his pro-
minent situation, he walked like one deprived
of all that was dear to him to his cabin, now
leaning heavily on the shoulder of his first
lieutenant, and now muttering unintelligible and
scarcely audible curses.
When he had reached his cabin door, lie
paused, and grasping the hand of his first
lieutenant quite a£Pectionately, he spoke thus:
'^ My dear fellow, I feel this more than I ought;
JACK ASHOBE. 4S
I shall be the laughing-etock of the fleet. Go
on board the admiral as soon as you think that
he is stirring, and make the best report you can
of iL And hark ye, Tauthause, I am going to
do you a favour — a great favour ; I am going to
call that canticle-chanting son of a dog's lady
out— and, if there is strength in gunpowder,
m shoot him ; and you, my boy, shall be my
second. Send me the doctor. A precious rear-
admiral I Send me the doctor.**
But the measure of poor Firebrass's misery
was not yet full. The admiral was very angry
and very merry at the same time. In the fore*
noon of the same day, every captain of the
fleet had sent our violent friend mocking letters
of condolence, with offers of assistance at once
ridiculous and tantalizing. Firebrass bore all
this with tolerable equanimity — that is to say,
for him. He felt very well disposed to do natu-
ral justice upon his tormentors, but the laugh
had set so strongly against him, that at present
be was determined to give way to a current of
ridiaile that he could not, without exposing
himself to more annoyance, resist.
46 JACK ASHORE.
About noon, a twelve-oared yawl, with a
sanctified-looking lieutenant in the stern-sheets,
pulled up alongside, and gaining the quarter-
deck, he begged to speak to Captain Firebrass,
who, stepping forward with enough of vinegar in
his countenance to have pickled a firkin of
cucumbers, was thus addressed : —
*^ Rear-admiral Lord Gambroon having heard
by common report, which report he has verified
by his own observation, that the ship under
your [command having gained a loss, in the
absence of the heathen figure-head that you
had so tawdrily painted, has sent you, out of
christian charity, a very good apostle Paul,
which I have now towed alongside. « His lord-
ship also bids me say, that he, the apostle, was
the ' true Glory^^ and that the admiral has
not the least objection to his being a substitute
for the scandal that formerly was to be seen as
the figure-head of the Glory/'
*^ Give my compliments to Rear-admiral Lord
Gambroon, towinj^ him back his apostle Paul,
and tell him that I cannot possibly receive him,
as I am certain the apostle has not yet preached
JACK ASHORE. 47
to his lordship^ from his first epistle to Timothy,
the second verse of the fourth chapter ; and
therefore that his ministry will be more service-
able to his lordship than to myself. So out of
my ship, you canting—"
•* This behaviour—"
" Away with you, sir ! and hark ye, a word
in your ear — I have a small account still un-
settled with his lordship; but I know the
sendee.'*
48 JACK A8H0BE.
CHAPTER IV.
CoDsists only of a few necessazy introductions, and a little
dissertation upon character — the perusal of which ought
not to be omitted, though the author has attempted to be
sensible.
Jack, whom we have not yet introduced to the
reader, is not yet ashore, but still afloat in the
Old Glory. We are sorry to say that our first
mention of him must be to the purport, that
on pay-day he got tremendously drunk, quai^
relied with bis messmates, fought with his girl,
got robbed by his Jew, and, on the morning of
the abduction of the figure-head, was so really
and wretchedly ill, that he was too confused
fully to understand the astounding events that
had to recently afflicted the captain, and be-
wildered the ship's company.
JACK ASHORE. 49
Afloat we must still leave him, and, for a time,
indulge in the contemplation of scenes by far
more pleasant, and describe beings far more
refioed, than those that we have lately portrayed.
At six-and-twenty, Sir Edward Fortin*
tower seemed to have obtained that ne pltu
tUtra^ that exquisite perfection of human hap-
pbessy which makes the thoughtful man tremble
for its possessor. Every incident that conjec-
ture could fasten upon his destiny, as it must
necessarily involve change, seemed also, as a
natural consequence, to carry with it some
taint, some deterioration of the excessive hap-
piness which was evidently his lot. In perfect
health, possessed of a manly and vigorous form,
and some beauty of countenance, he stood,
amongst the generality of men, as a creation
nperior to, though not distinct from, his race.
Gifted with a powerful mind, a great deal of
wit, and considerable industry, he had attained
a degree of mental excellence, though not
equal to the mere accidents of his physical
beauty, yet such as to enable him gracefully to
VOL. I. D
50 JACK ASHOEB.
play his part in whatever society chance might
happen to throw him.
But, of all his talents, that of an impassioned
and natural eloquence was the most striking.
He was fully conscious of this distinction, and
was naturally proud of it. Scarcely had the law
allowed him to Mrrite himself man, than he had
taken his place among the senators of the first
empire of the world ; and though as yet with*
out much personal influence, he was a general
object of admiration, and, in the anticipation
of all parties, was destined one day to become
the wielder of the destinies of the greater part
of the civilised world. This was a high and
valued distinction. The rising youg men of
the day paid him universal court ; and wher«*
ever he appeared, there was evidently that sen-
sation excited, which is at once so flattering and
so dangerous to the object.
Owing to some ill-requited services of his
ancestors, on the day of his majority Edward
Fortintower was created an English baronet. His
inheritance was large, and, being derived from a
usurious and distant relative, was unencumbered*
JACK AS HOBS. 51
Under Sir Edward's care so it still remained.
He fully participated in all the enjoyments,
luxuries, and even in some of the extravagan-
cies of the day, but with that unobtrusive dis-
cretion that gave a double zest to his pleasures,
ind preserved him from the humiliation of
dd>t, and the miseries of remorse. Though
deddedly a man of fashion, he was still natu*
rally a man of business ; loved active and b^
oefidal employment for its own sake, and whe-
ther in affairs of moment, or in trifles, in the
wild excursion of pleasure, or in the studious
retirement of his library, he was essentially
methodical.
As no young man of the day appeared to
possess the means of greater haf^ness than Sir
Edward Fortintower, so also there was none
who appeared to possess more sterling qualities
to make those means conducive to the great
ends of life, and of preserving them when they
were attained.
And he was blessed in that sweetest of all
bliss — ^his love. It was a true love, and yet
the current of it had not only run smoothly,
d2
52 JACK ASHORE.
but delightfully, ecstatically. In one month —
but how tediously long did the contemplation
of that month appear ! — in one little month, and
the tremulous but delightful sensations of hope
were to be absorbed, and for ever, into the solid
fruition of certain happiness.
The betrothed of Sir Edward Fortintower
was an heiress of great beauty. She had been
well educated, and bore all her talents and ac-
quirements like a lady. It would not be true
to say, that in the dance she was more graceful
than the Elsler, in the song more inspired than
Grisi, that she painted landscapes better than
Stanfield, or portraits with more skill than Sir
Thomas Lawrence. Even in that very general
accomplishment, music, we must confess that
very many professional ladies and gentlemen
were her superiors* We do not know whether
she could have equalled Miss Landon in poetry,
or have excelled Mrs. Hemans. We will not
say that she could not have done so, because
she never tried. Once, and only once, being
overpowered by moonlight, and a sense of the
excess of her own happiness^ she did commence
JACK ASHORX. 53
an ode — of course it was about love and her
lover; and as she was most desirous that each
stanza should cooclude with the word ^* Ed-
ward/' the poverty of the English language,
and not her want of genius, was the cause of
lier failure ; the only rhyme that offered itself
she rejected with a blush, and then hastily —
perhaps too hastily — came to the conclusion
that the ^* gods had not made her poetical/'
Happy and thrice happy would it have been
for this nauseated world, if nineteen twen-
tieth part of its poets had commenced and
terminated their labours in the same exemplary
manner.
Indeed, we do not know for what particular
excellence this lady was famed ; she was not
even remarkable for a romantic name, having
been christened Ann, and inheriting from her
father the certainly not very aristocratic sur-
name of Truepenny. Yet, with these glaring
deficiencies upon every individual part, taking
her altogether, a more ladylike, excellent young
woman London could not boast of, at least
during one season.
54 JACK ASHORE.
Her grandfather was still living, — old True-
penny. It seemed, he was so very old that, as no
one could exactly tell when he had begun to live,
so no one dared to fix a probable period for his
death.
Ann had never known the love and care
of either father or mother. She had no re-
collection of them — they were to her as if
they had never been. No one had ever spoketi
to her of them, and she had always called her
grandfather ** Pa," in her childhood, and
^' Father," in her more advanced years. True-
penny was her paternal ancestor, and she was
the only surviving child of his, or of her own
mother's family. As nobody knew how old
was very old Truepenny, so did no one know
how rich was very rich old Truepenny. He
must have numbered nearly a hundred years ;
and though he bore their impress plainly upon
his wrinkled countenance, he yet looked hale
and hearty. His sight was extremely good,
though his hearing was very much impaired ;
but his voice was still strong, though his step
was feeble.
JACK ASHOBE. 55
He had long ceased to care for the fashion of
his habiliments. He clothed himself with what
best suited his age and his infirmities. He
addom sufiSnred himself to be shaved, and jet
that operation was performed upon him too
firequently to permit his beard, white as the
unsunned snow, from being characterised as a
descending one. The head was bald, with the
exception of a few long and blanched locks that
flowed down his shoulders. In his usual ap-
parel, he seemed, in his robes and his shawls,
more like an inhabitant of Constantinople than
of London. In his diet, he was not only tem-
perate, but abstemious. Without appearing to
fear death, he took every precaution for pro-
longing a life that seemed to afford him so little
gratification.
At the time of the commencement of our
narratiye, Mr. Truepenny occupied the house
that looks upon the Green-park, now the resi-
dence of Ijord • It was then a magnifi-
cent temple, dedicated to silence and splendid
decorum. The establishment of servants vras
fuU, and yet there were few to serve. Mr.
56 JACK ASHORE.
Truepenny received no company, and sought
none; yet all the parade of the olden time was
preserved of first and second table. The ser-
vants fattened in the halls ; the horses fattened
in the stables ; and the coachman, seldom con-
scious of whip or coach-box, fattened with
them. The only thing that Mr. Truepenny
seemed to require of his vast establishment was,
that they should keep silence, and out of his
sight
Being, for so rich a man, very considerate,
he did not desire his granddaughter to live with
him ; but he placed her with a distant female
relation living in Harley-street, whose income
not being equal to her own estimate of her de-
serts, or to command the luxuries and distinc-
tion to which she deemed herself rightfully
entitled, the accession of the heiress, with a
most ample annuity, was exceedingly acceptable
to her establishment.
The mass of society is made up of common
characters; yet, when nearly examined, the
most common of these common characters has
his or her peculiarities. Thus, the variety of
JACK ASHORE.
67
characters in detail is infinite, whilst its same-
Des8 in the aggregate is the true tedium mUB
of existence. This is a paradox, but full
of truth. It was especially true of Ann
Traepennj. Regarding her as one among the
mass^ there seemed, in no one point of view,
anything to distinguish her by its peculiar ex-
cellence. Though very beautiful, there were
others more beautiful ; though witty, wittier ;
though accomplished, more accomplished. If
you asked her herself in what she was distin*
goished from other young ladies of her own age
and station in society, she would laughingly
tell you, that she could not make verses, which
everybody else could ; and if the same ques-
tion was asked of Sir Edward, he would look
unutterable things, and with perhaps a tear in
each eye, and a stare of astonishment, ask you
if you did not perceive ** that she was superior
to her whole sex.*^ But if, not being satisfied
with the generality of this answer, you required
him to state in what particular, he would be
puzzled, and say, after some pause, that she
had no faults, and, above all, that she had not
d5
58 JACK ASHORE.
the greatest of all faults, that of being pre-
eminent in anything. Yet he was deceived,
and she also. Her characteristic was devotion
— ^an abandonment of self, and all that con-
cerned self, for one cherished object- She was
created a secondary being — but a being how
glorious ! She was bom a worshipper ; she
was by nature a servant and a slave — ^but a very
exalted one ; and aboundingly worthy must that
object be, that she could thus faithfully serve,
for whom she pould thus willingly slave,
and whom she could enthusiastically worship.
As yet, she was unaware of this idiosyn-
crasy. Her heart had, however, already found
its object.
We may seem tedious in thus introducing
our characters before we call upon them to
speak and to act. Yet, with all submission,
we consider it to be the best plan. We hope
that it has created an interest for them in the
mind of our reader, so that that very important
personage will watch their sayings and doings,
and be really anxious to know in what manner
they will conduct themselves in the peculiar
JACK ASHORE. 59
and difficult situations in which they most likely
will be found.
With this apology for the course that we are
pursuing, yet one more description, and then
the ** puppets shall speak for themselves.^' The
mistress of No. — Harley-street, a distant
coasin of Miss Truepenny's^ was named Miss
Matilda Morison. She was a superbly handsome
lady. However great the number in the party
might be, she was ever the most striking. She
wasy though on the verge of fifty, a grand and
a redundant beauty. When well rouged and
properly made up^ she was almost enchanting ;
when viewed at the proper distance, majestic ;
un wrinkled, with a clear and unstained com*
pLexion, excepting where the carmine more than
emulated in delicacy, and equalled in intensity,
the glow of health. Finally, she had a firm
step, and a most graceful deportment.
How was it that, with all these fascinations
about her, you discovered at once that Miss
Matilda Morison had passed her meridian?
There was no tale of years in the brilliancy of
60 JACK ASHORE.
her laughing blue eyes ; no indication of age in
the round whiteness of her arm; the elastic
firmness of her bust shamed the lax figure of
many young maidens still wanting years from
their womanhood. But age will speak out —
the not to be silenced — the intolerable monitor !
As you gazed upon Miss Morison, you ex-
claimed, or at least thought, ^* What a splendid
creature ! — but she must be nearly fifty : she is
decidedly ptusee ;*' — and then you would be
exceedingly puzzled to say in what.
You perhaps add, *^ If thus gorgeous and
bewitching at her time of life, how super-
humanly beautiful she must have been when
young !" But you would be wrong. She never
was more perfect in her charms — the wane
of other women was to her the reign of her
beauty. As she matured, she perfected. She
had always been remarkable for her attrac-
tions, but never more so when you might
expect that, at least in person, she would cease
to attract.
When we add, that she was complete mistress
JACK ASHOBE. 61
of all the arts of dress and the varieties of
adorament, we have completed her character, so
far as it appeared to the public
Such a woman must naturally be fond of ad*
miration ; but she courted power still more than
praise or adulation. She was a tyrant, though a
graceful one. She was most pleased to rule,
not by the mere brute weight of authority, but
by finesse and exquisitely refined stratagem. Her
principles were children bom of the hour and of
the occasion, and their parent destroyed them
without hesitation, and without remorse, the
▼ery moment that their existence proved a
trouble. In her youth she had outlived many
a love-passion ; she had now, in her age« no
sentiment remaining strong enough to be called
a passion — save one — an imperishable, an
implacable hate for Sir Edward Fortintower.
The Easter recess had given Sir Edward
a respite from those duties called parliamentary ;
though no duties, in the whole duty of man,
are ever treated more cavalierly, or are shuffled
ofi* and on with more insouciance. Sir Ed-
ward had not yet come to look upon this
62 JACK ASHORE.
as does the old tacticiaD ; and thus he really
enjoyed the relaxation that the holidays af-
forded him.
At three in the afternoon, a well-appointed
cab was at Miss Morison^s door. It was a
bland and sunshiny day in the latter part of
April. The scrupulously dressed boy-groom
had slowly driven the vehicle a few times up
and down the quiet street, and had already
begun to feel the lulling influence of the
scene, as he again brought up before the door
of the house that contained his master, and
commenced, with half-closed eyes, a philoso-
phical contemplation of the horse's ears. Why
these apes are called tigers, the monkeys from
whom they derived the title only can tell — and*
if told, would perhaps be found to be not worth
the telling.
As this lad was between reverie and sleep,
now trying to calculate his wages for nine
months, now to remove, with the end of the
lash of his whip, a troublesome fly from the
horse's right ear, the door of the house opposite
to which the cabriolet stood, opened, and Sir
JACK ASHORE. 63
Edward hastily sprang into the ▼ehicle, and
dfOTe off with much more speed than was usual
with him. His destination was a large^ heavy*
looking house, a corner one, that abutted upon
one of the squares situated in the north-eastern
department of the metropolis.
In the front drawing*room of this house sate
a young lady at the pianoforte, trying over and
over again a very difficult passage of a new over-
ture. Watching her with anxiety and impa-
tience^ which were fast becoming vexation, a
iharp-looldng, genteel, but not gentlemanly man,
sbout fifty, stood over her. The keys were
again rattled, the hands crossed and re^rossed
rapidly, but nothing was produced but loud
dissonance. The young lady flung herself
back, let her hands fall vapidly in her lap, and
looking up pleadingly and listlessly, exclaimed,
*' I cannot do it, father .**
"Try again, Elfrida — try again, my loveu
you certainly are not perfect, but you improve
—you do, indeed.**
These were kind words, but they were spoken
64 JACK ASHOBE.
with an enforced kindness; they carried in
their tone more of reproach than of encourage-
ment. The poor girl felt it, and again resumed,
to her, the unconquerable task. This last
crash was more tuneless than any of its prede-
cessors. An oath, a loud and a harsh one,
burst forth from the lips of the angry pa-
rent, which was followed by the exclamation,
" The girl's a fool — incontrovertibly — abso*
lutely."
The daughter's tears gushed forth plen*
teously. *^ Am I a fool, father, truly and in-
deed ? I am sorry that it is so, yet, believe
me, I am glad to hear you acknowledge it.
You will now treat me more kindly, as an un-
offending simpleton who loves you, than you
would did you think me a refractory daughter
who wilfully disobeyed you. I have often felt
my inferiority — not so much in these things,
these tiresome accomplishments, as in the play
of conversation. Yes, I long suspected I was a
fool. It is a harsh word ; do not use it often,
my dear, dear father, and in time I shall come
to be used to it.**
JACK ASHORE. 65
^' What will the girl say next?^ said the
father, much surprised.
** I will say that as there are but us two left
in this world to love each other, you will hide
my failing, and we will be so happy. Even
fools can love wisely when they love their own
father so well — ^and you, papa, have wit and
sense enough for both of us. I am always obe*
dient — you know I am. Come, I will be your
fond little fool ; so do let me put by this very,
very odious music."
** Elfrida, do not tease me. You are a very
good and a very sensible child — ^in your way.
When I called you fool, I meant only that you
were slow in learning what others profess to ac-
quire quickly — that is all, Elfrida — nothing
more, I assure you — though it disappoints me
much."
*' Well, father, to please you, I'll try again.
But do you really like this difficult music?
When, an hour ago, my master played it over
so brilliantly and so exquisitely, you did no-
thing but yawn — O father, how you did
yawn ! I should have laughed outright, had
66 JACK ASHORE.
it not been for fear. You don't like it,
really ?''
** I detest it — that is, it would delight me
beyond measure to hear you play it brilliantly
and exquisitely ; but from all others it would
seem detestable to me."*^
*^ Thank you, thank you, dearest father !"
*^ Ah ! Elfrida, you do not understand me.
Bless me ! what an outrageous uproar ! that is
either the roar of a tiger at my door, or the
bluster of some pretender to fashion. How
can you go to the window ? — it is so vulgar !"
*^ La I papa, it's the handsome Sir Edward
Fortintower, in his handsome cab; and there's
his pretty tiger going to knock at the door
again. There he goes ; bless his little hands I
though, for the matter of that, I can't see them
for his nice white gloves !"
*^ Simpleton ! come away from the window.
Fie for shame, Elfrida — if Sir Edward were to
look up !"
" Well, he couldn't see me. There he goes,
and here goes I."
*' Goes I ! and the money that I have spent
JACK A8UORK. 67
upoD her ! goes I ! Miss * goes 1/ go you to
yoar room, and do not come until I send for
you."
As the young lady departed at one door. Sir
Edward entered at the other.
68 JACK ASHORK.
CHAPTER V.
Sir Edvrardfin search of bad news, finds a wife may be bad for
tbe asking — Bandies compliments with a lawyer — Gets the
worst of it, and a little fright into the bargain— If the spoon
must be long for the man who eats soup with the dark one,
how should he be furnished when he goes to dine with an
attorney I^A few secrets in paragraph-writiDg.
Ah, Sir Edward ! I am glad, most glad, to see
you,** said Mr. Scrivener, with that eagerness
of joy with v»hich the wolf would welcome the
lamb that might innocently have strayed into
his den. There was a ferocity of pleasure
about the host, that would have made hospita-
lity almost hideous. He perceived, by tbe
coldness of Sir Edward's demeanour, that he
had betrayed too much, and then changed his
manner into an appearance hearty enough, but
JACK A8HORR. 69
more careless. Never did two persons, with
subjects the most momentous to each labouring
in their breasts, seem so determined to converse
more discursively and vapidly. They dreaded
to approach the abyss into which each was
desirous to plunge, and see its difficulties and
its dangers. But if Mr. Scrivener was the
more wily. Sir Edward was the more coura-
geous ; and the latter, at length springing up
from his chair, and folding his arms, not arro>
gantly, but with an air almost melancholy,
nid, gazing intently upon Mr. Scrivener's
niooth but ambiguous countenance, —
'* Have you heard anything concerning this
most annoying rumour respecting the long-lost
next of kin to old Mortimer Fortintower of
Fortintower-hall ?*
'* Most annoying — it is most annoying,^ was
the inapplicable answer.
** Bnt have you heard anything of it — of the
particulars — of its chances of being founded in
truth ? I am naturally anxious and impatient
on this subject.^
^ Anxious and impatient f — no more. Sir
70 JACK A8HOBE,
Edward? Are you not fearful — tortured —
wretched ?"
** Theaei sir, are searching and impertinent
questions. But I will answer you frankly; for
myself, I am not^for others, much. You know,
Mr. Scrivener, that I have formed friendships
— made connexions ; and there is among them
one, the dearest tie, the noblest feeling that can
mingle with, and give a colour to a man's best
and purest thoughts. It is for all this, that, if
I feel as much as a man ought, I should not be
accused of either weakness or selfishness. Mis
Truepenny — '"
** Hi, hi, ha ! A thousand pardons. Sir
Edward, but the name — the singular name-
always makes me smile. I have the profoundest
respect and admiration for the lady. Sir Ed-
ward — believe me that I have. Do, my good
sir, relax the severity of your look. You know
what Chaucer says in his Wife of Bath —
^ What's in a name ? A rose by any other
name would cost as much.' You smile again.
You see, though I have been all my life a
lawyer, I can aptly quote an apt quotation.
JACK A8HOKK. 71
Bat to return to this anplesMuit subject. Be-
lieve me^ Sir Edward, Miss Truepenny will be
Miss Truepenny until the end of her days, if
thoe be any foundation in this rumour. Her
giand&ther — well do I know the rigid old man
^if he finds you but even five hundred pounds
a year leas than he has supposed you to be
worth, will at once put an end to this ill-as*
wrted match !"
** Ill-assorted, Mr. Scrivener ! You are
OMwe than legally ofiensive this morning."
^ Always presuming. Sir Edward, that there
is foundation for this rumour.**
** You seem determined to turn from inso»
knoe to presumption. Pray what do you know
about this matter ?**
** No more than all the world may choose
to know, who may choose to read the public
papers; but I, from my knowledge of your
family concerns, am perhaps alone enabled to
read them rightly. Sir Edward Fortintower,
I think highly of you ; all who know you, the
worid at large, think so too ; and I am, at the
same time, sorry and proud to say that there
72 JACK ASHORE.
is one in this house^ who^ to the ruin of h
peace of mind, highly as the world, highly
your friends, highly as I think of you, far sur^
passes in her admiration and love of you the
accumulated affection of all these. I do not
blush for her, or for myself, when I confess
this, for you are worthy of it. Exert, then,
that courage and that manliness for which the
world gives you so much credit, and bear it
with fortitude, when I tell you that there is a
great, a very great, probability that there is
truth in these rumours."
*^ When any one sees me bear basely what-
ever reverse God may have in reserve for me,
let him taunt me with it with impunity. I will
do justice. If I hold not my estates rightfully,
I will not hold them a moment. If you know
to whom they fairly belong, assist me in re-
storing them at once.''
*' Well, well, that is very nobly said ; but
you must not be in such a hurry. It may be
right for the rightful owner to have his rightful
estates, as you say. Rightful is a good word,
though scarcely, in this sense, legal. I like the
JACK ASHOKE. 73
word rightful, and therefore — mark me^ Sir
Edward — therefore it would not be rightful
in me to assbt in making my fnend a titled
beggar!"
^ Mr. Scrivener, you have now added insult
to presumption and insolence.**
'* I beg your pardon — I humUy b^ your
pirdoD, Sir Edward ; I should have said
pauper — I correct myself— titled pauper. Be*
lieve roe, great, very great, would be, must be,
the ioducements to make me assist in reducing
mj friend, and one whom Miss Scrivener so ab-
solutely admires, to a titled pauper."
** But there are indifceroenta,^ said Sir Ed-
ward ; and he smiled scornfully.
^ Professionally, Sir Edward, professionaUy ;
then what could I do? You were pleased,
some two years ago, to withdraw your affairs
from our office ; consequently, however great
nune and my daughter's friendship may be for
you, there is no legal tie between us. I am open
to give advice to any one who may give himself
to me as my clienti I only say this. Sir Ed-
VOL. u X
74 JACK A8HOE£.
ward — ^beware! for by the wording of those
newspaper paragraphs I am oertaiii there is
mischief in them.^
^^ I will do no wrong, nor suffer any. I
have a dark suspictoi), Mr. Scrivener. I enjoy
my estates both lineally and by the will of my
late relative* It seems to me all but an impossi*
bility that any claimant should arise, to my
iojuryi with a diadow of right on his side ; and,
mark me, Mr. Scrivener, against right I will
not contest.^
'^ Superbly spoken, sir, very superbly \** and
then, with his gentlest and most insinuating
smile^ he continued, '^ but, my dear Sir Ed-
ward, if you would but consider me as your
friend— your fast and loving friend — I think,
meanly as you may estimate my taknts, that 1
could ensure your safety. Oh ! what a blessed
consummation of happiness would it be for all
of us, could I but see you enter as a member
of my family ! I acknowledge^ with all humi-
lity, that we are scarcely worthy of the
bonoun"^
JACK A8H0EB. 75
^ Three times, Mr. Scrivener, have you pro-
miied me never to recur to .this subject; and
now a fourth — ^
*^ Only incidentally, my good Sir Edward^
only incidentally. I think — nay, were you
Tcally one of us, I am certain — that I could de-
feat the machinations of your secret enemy,
whoew^ he may be; and may not a father
pkid for a beloved daughter, whose rapidly
dedimng health — ^'
** When I was sitting in my cabricJet, I de-
scried a ruddy, very plump, and good-hu-
moured face peeping at me through the curtains
of that very window ; and had not that face
been the very picture of robust health, I cer-
tainly should have pronounced it to be Miss
Scrivener's."
** That it was Miss Scrivener's I am not pre-
pared to deny ; but that she is in the enjoy-
ment of robust health I cannot allow. If she
expected your coming, could you impute it to
her as a crime duit she watched for you ? But
pardoD me — I trust that both of us have too
much proper pride to sue for the hand of any
£ 2
76 JACK ASHORE.
one. I am but now stating things to you in a
worldly light. On the one hand are placed be-
fore you an alliance with my family — an only
and richly portioned daughter — all my property
at my death, and our gratitude and my assidu-
ous services whilst I live ; on the other, pro-
bable loss to you of the very means of sub-
sistence — a certain vexatious and protracted
lawsuit, the termination of which you can never
see, and the result of which you cannot antici-
pate. Can you. Sir Edward, offer to Miaa
Truepenny an uncertain property ? or will her
grandfather, from whom she derives all her
hopes, accept such an offer? I have spoken
plainly. Give this subject your best and most
serious consideration.^'
** I am like you, Mr. Scrivener, of this world,
and deny not that I am, in many senses, as
worldly as yourself. I make not — I never made
— any professions of quixotic virtue. I am too
much a disciple of expediency to be ever a good
Christian. To the man who robs me of my vest,
I will certainly not make an offer of my coat,
nor shall the smiter of my right cheek repeat
JACK ASHORE. 77
the iDsidt OD my left. Mr. Scrivener, I am a
worldly man.'*
^ Give me your hand, my dear Sir Edward,
— give me your hand !'*
" Not yet, Mr. Scrivener — ^not yet. As a
worldly man, I have sought the world's dis-
tinctioDs.^
^ And won them, my good sir ; and nobly
won them."*
** And won them. Nay, more, I am proud
of them ; I have become attached to them — my
bouses, my parks, my statues, my pictures, my
plate, my equipages, all the decencies, the
elegancies^ the quiet pomps of my station,
seem to me to have become integral portions of
myself; the idea of parting with them is like
the thought of severing my members from my
body. And those my numerous servants whom
I have made my friends, and my friends still
more numerous, whom, in all things graceful to
their stations, I have made my servants, — all
these are very dear to me. Tell me, can I
honestly preserve all these, and honourably too as
78 JACK A8HOBE.
well as honestly ? and frankly will I give you
my answer."
*' Frankly then, yes — if you enter my family
— if you marry my Elfrida Eugenia."
« And if I do not ?"
^ Why then. Sir Edward, the longer enjoy-
ment of that which you appear so much to
enjoy, is extremely problematicaL You may
have to look upon all the past as a pleasant, but
a vain, nay, when compared with your future
misery, as a tantalising dream.^
** You put this strongly. Now tell me, sir,
I command you, do you not know more of this
business than you have yet avowed ? Are you
not yourself, for your individual purpose^
working against me ?^
" Really^ Sir Edward, I am not : how could
you suppose me to be so base ? I know nothing
more than the papers have insinuated ; all that
I do conjecture more is, that they seem to be on
a fearfully dangerous track/'
" Then am I safe, and there is nothing in
them. They are nothing but the most vague
JArX ASflOAB. 79
and ridiculous romances, almost as applicable
to any other baronet as to myself."
^ It is my painful duty to abate your con-
fidenoe. Sir Kdward« Have you seen the Mern^
mg PM oi to-day ?"
*• No, I have not"
** Well, the paragraph was so singular, and so
strictly applicable to yoorsdf, diat my dear
Elfrida took a copy of it. The papers I always
send to my oiBce in the city^ so soon as I have
breakfasted* You must not be astonished that
Miss Scrivener should have copied out what so
iKarly oonoerns you ; for, to the destruction of
her peace of miod^ what concerns you is of too
much moment to her. I have mislaid mv
glasses ; bat this, I believe, is the paper.*"
Saying this, Mr. Scrivener took up one of two
or three pieces of manuscript, and handed it
cardessly to Sir Edwatxi, who began to read
akiud as follows —
"An original impromptu, addressed to Sir
Edwaid Fortintower, Bart., by Elfrida Eugenia.
** Airmke mj soul, and with the stin
Tbj daily conne of duty mo.
80 JACK ASHORE.
Shake off dall alotfa, and early rise.
That I may see Sir Edward's eyes."
^* You have got the wrong paper, Sir Edward,"
said Mr. Scrivener, rubbing his hands with
unaffected delight ; ^* but I am not sorry for
it. . You see her talent at original composition,
and the state of her heart too. Is there any
more of it P pray read it.**
'^ There is no more ; I think there is quite
enough as it is. Original I it is a parody — **
** Ah I to be sure, a parody ; that is the
hardest kind of original poetry — ^yes, yes, I had
forgotten that it was a parody ; and don't you
think it's a very beautiful one? and all her own
invention !**
<* I am afraid, Mr. Scrivener, you are not
very early at church. But something too much
of this trifling.''
" Trifling !" murmured Mr. Scrivener, •* ori-
ginal poetry like that ! Well, well, it shall go
into one of the magazines; the girl is not so
simple after all. Ah ' this is, I believe,
the paragraph. Is not the handwriting excel-
lent ?"
JACK ASHOftE. 81
Without paying much attention to the auto-
graph, Sir Edward read as follows : —
*'We understand from the best authority,
that the hints that have lately been so general,
about ao indisputable claim to all the estates,
real and personal, of a certain "elegant and newly
created baronet, who gained for himself so much
cdebrity as a parliamentary debater, have now
assumed a more tangible form. It would seem,
that Sir ♦ * * * inherits, as heir-at-law and by
will, as the eldest male nephew of the late rich
and penurious Mr. ♦♦*♦♦; but Sir • • * * 's
father had an elder brother ; and it is the descen-
dant of that brother who is now, for the first time,
made aware of his rights. To add to the romance
of the story, this new claimant, mirabUe dictu !
is DOW actually serving on board of one of his
majesty's ships of war as a foremast man. We
prophesy, that this will produce a fine harvest
for the gentlemen of the long-robe, and they
will not let the cause slip through their bands
iinder a ten years' ordeal, if they act with their
usual astuteness. One thing, however, is cer-
tain, that the law cannot take away from its
K 5
82 JACK ASHORE.
present possessor either his title or his seat in
the lower house; and with these, his very
elegant person, his habits and accomplishments,
he may be able, by a matrimonial alliance, to
indemnify himself in some measure for the
caprices of fortune and the injuries of the law's
delay. It is, however, certain that the unlucky
baronet's alliance with the great heiress of the
city is postponed sine die^ and that whether the
gentleman's purse be well or ill lined, he will
never be able to boast of possessing a true
penny.^*
Sir Edward read twice over this mortifying
announcement, and from its mirabile dictu, and
miserable pun in the name of his lady love^ he
doubted not for a moment but that it was the
production of a genuine penny-a-liner, though
the materials must have been furnished him by
some one who was well versed in the matter.
'* Now, what think you of that, Sir Edward?"
said the lawyer, half triumphantly.
^* That there is either a conspiracy formed
against me^ or that I am, as you considerately
phrased it, a titled pauper."
JACK A8H0£E.
83
" But you know the alternative. You will
be guilty of a moral felo de <e, if you hesitate.
Come, come, my good Sir Edward, we have had
quite enough of business this morning. Will
you lunch with us? Miss Scrivener will be
with us immediately. That girl, Sir Edward, is
a treasure to me. Do you see anything amiss in
the arrangements of this room ? She manages
my household for me, and, till lately— till she
took to writing original poetry But why in
such a hurry? what do you say to this pro*
position of mine ?"
" Can you defeat this attempt on my pro-
perty ?"
Most assuredly.^
Will you r
** On those most advantageous terms."
'* Is this threatened claim founded in justice?'"
*' As the law will decide."
*' And you can command that decision ?"
** I can-**
" And will?*
*< And will, as you behave to me and mine.
You know my terms.**
84 JACK ASHORE.
^^ And what are you then, who thus can, and
who say you will, pervert the law to your own
views and fancied interests?"
** Your best of friends, who hopes soon to
prove himself the best of fathers-in-law. Do
you accept my terms?'
^* Give me time to consider."
^^ A week, if you like^ — and then they parted.
When the door was closed between them,
"A rascal !" said Sir Edward. " Fairly caught.'^
said Mr. Scrivener.
JACK A8H0EK. 86
CHAPTER VI.
To onr own great ntidietion we get tiloat agtiit->We make
our aeqnaintaaee more mtimete with Jack — He doea the
amiable with the goda aod goddeaaea of the figure-head —
Thej cat and mn, and leaTe him in the larch-— Jack in hia
bammockf and in moch jeopardy.
Let us return to the Glory; let us embosom
ourselves in the clear greenish seas of Spithead,
and descending to the lower deck of the vene-
rable three-decker, let us look for Jack, our own
dear delightful Jack Truepenny. It will be^ I
expect, some diflBculty before we find him ; for,
as we have before mentioned, yesterday it was
his sovereign will and pleasure to get very par-
ticularly drunk ; and he liked it so much, that
even when most drunken he provided for a con-
tinuance of his bestial ecstasy.
But few civilians can properly understand the
86 ^ACK ASHORE.
passion that sometimes besets a man-of-war*K
man for intoxication. With the sailor, it is not
the habitual craving for excitement that forms
the disease of the confirmed drunkard ashore,
but more a disarrangement of the physical than
of the moral man. We never could satis-
factorily account to ourselves for this furor
for occasional ebriety that besets poor Jack.
His intoxication is like nothing seen on shore.
We very well know that many reasons, each
good as far as it goes, have been given for this
mania, but not one of them is sufficient in itself
to account for the dangers, even to the risk of
his life, that he will run, in order to acquire the
means of making himself, for a few hours, above
all the cares of that life, and beneath the nature
of the very brute that perisheth. Many and
excellent, at least to the drunkard, are the pleas
for drinking. Too much or too little happi-
ness ; joy or grief; bad or good luck ; birth and
death ; marriage and a sentence of divorce : all
are unimpugnable reasons. Famine or repletion
alike fly to the cup ; in fact, when the infatua.*
tion is upon the man, he measures not his life
JACK ASHO£K. 87
by hoursy and weeks, and years — neither by
thoughts nor acts, good or evil ; but solely by
the quantity of strong drink that he has im-
bibed, and the alternations of drunk and sober.
Now, all this applies but very weakly to the
tar. Give him his fill, his run, and he grows
disgusted with his suction and ashamed of him-
self. By most excellent regulations, he has been
obliged to lead and to be made to appreciate
a life of cleanliness, health, and comparative
temperance. After his fit of folly is over — that
i% if it be allowed to finish naturally by a wear-
ing out — ^he draws his conclusions, and justly
pronounces himself to be an ass, and but little
better than a shore-going lubber; and hence-
forward lives cleanly and like a gentleman,
until the sense of prohibition grows strong and
irksome upon him, and then he again gets
gloriously drunk in order to prove that he is a
free agent.
Now drunkenness has an acuteness peculiarly
its own ; like the animal creation, it possesses, in
a marked degree, the instinct of self-preservation,
and it was distinctly shown in the case of poor
88 JACK ASHO££.
Jack. Though he was unable to prevent his
girl and his Jew from robbing him, yet he had
tact enough to secrete about his person a blad-
der containing nearly a quart of fiery rum, and
this feat he cunningly performed at the exact
moment when he could positively drink no
more, and just before he fell down in a state of
total oblivion.
His Jew had fleeced him as much as his two
ladies would permit, and then his Poll and his
Sue, in order, as they said, that he might not
be plundered, had taken everything of value
from his person, and then bundled him like so
much offal under the forty-two pounder that
separated his mess from the next
Just about the breaking of the day, honest
John Truepenny dreamed that the head cook
of the regions below had turned him on the
spit that he was roasting upon, and he awoke
with the torture of the intolerable heat. He
was, or at least he seemed to be, one mass of
fire. Everything around him was wrapped in
profound darkness. He first of all perceived
that he was not in his hammock, and, after he
JACK A8HOEB. 89
had twice broken his head against the trunnions
of the guD, he contrived to creep from under
Its carriage, and he then became partially sen-
sible that he was very beastly drunk, and burn-
ing with thirst and fever*
In this state he staggered on to the fore
hatchway ladder, and contrived to ascend, stum-
bUng over and kicking various of his shipmates,
who had been too much intoxicated to get into
their hammocks. He at last reached the
galley, and had suflSdent sense to remove the
lid from one of the coppers, and to procure
from it huge draughts of delicious cold water ;
after which he proceded to the head, and there
was then just sufficient light to enable him to
see distinctly what was going forward, although
the summer fog hung heavily around.
What took place in the head Jack True-
penny never clearly understood, though it is
certain that he took an active part in all the
proceedings. It seemed to him at once real
and ideaL The best account that he could give
of it, even upon his oath, was much to the
following purport : He found the sentry there
90 JACK A8HOSB.
as usual ; but the whole group that had com-
posed the figure-head had come more in-board,
and had changed places. They all seemed,
somehow or another, to have got a half hour^s
leave of life, and talked and moved about,
almost as rationally as John Truepenny him-
self. Besides, they had company, men whom
Jack never saw before, but they were very
jovial pleasant fellows notwithstanding; and
Madame Fame^ with her long trumpet, had pro-
duced a lime-juice bottle of old Jamaica rum,
and handed it about in little cups very liberally
and graciously. Jack partook of it, of course;
indeed, she treated him like a distinguished
guest. "He could not tell how it was, but it
did not surprise him at the time to hear her
speak, and see her smile and drink. At length
she seemed, like Tam o* Shanter^s landlady —
•• To grow gracious
With fayoun rare and sly and precious.
If
until the old man with the Smyrna iig-jar,
who was supposed to represent Ocean, grew
restive, and Britannia herself protested strongly
JACK ASnO£S. 91
agaiQSt such indeoorous proceedings. Then
the little boys and girls set up a villanous
screeching; and, in fact, to use Jack's own
words, there was such a shindy, that he thought
the ship was going to tumble overboard. In
the midst of the row, and when the old man
was the most abusive^ some one put a saw in
Jack's hand, in order that he might unship the
fouUroouthed rascal, and bundle him into the
sea; and that, being angry with his inter-
ference, he worked lustily, and after some time
somebody gave him a rope to hold on by, and
just then he observed the whole family, boys
and girls, walk very deliberately into the water,
Madam Fame piping her eye as if her heart
would break ; and Britannia bidding him take
her compliments to Captain Firebrass, and tell
him she was so much shocked with his blas-
|;Aemous swearing and cursing, that she could
no longer stay on board his ship, particularly
as she had a young and growing family, for
whose mawleys she was bound to be careful.
Jack said that he then began to be a little
struck when he found himself alone in tlie head.
92 JACK ASHORE.
for the sentry had walked off with the rest ; so,
not wishing to be made an aider and abettor of
this wholesale desertion, he had tumbled down
below, and again crept under the forty-two
pounder ; — ^and that is the best account he could
give of the matter.
But we, as true historians, are bound to
supply a few omissions. We believe that Jack
gave a true account of his individual impression
of what took place in the head on that memo-
rable morning, with the exception that he mis-
took the word marah^ (never having heard of
them before, for mawleySi two of which, well
tarred and heavy, he himself possessed;) but
we must add for him, that having regained the
shelter of his gun, he found the way to the
bladder of rum that he had secreted, and sucked
at it till he dropped again into a state of such
complete stupefaction, that there was but a very
nice distinction between it and apoplexy.
When the decks were washed in the morning,
John Truepenny was found nearly suffocated,
and weltering in a pool of the wasted rum.
His heavy and stertorous breathing so much
JACK A8H0£B. 93
alarmed his messmates, that tfaey sent for one
of the assistant-surgeoosy who bled him imme-
diately, and then had him conveyed to a ham-
mock in the sick-bay.
By this time, the news of the disappearance
of the whole group at the figure-head, with
tbeir guardian, the marine, was known fore and
aft It was not long before damning marks of
suspicion that honest, innocent John True-
penny had been privy to the rape of the immor-
tals, were discovered. His banyan shirt and
canvass trousers were stained with the various
colours that had made the figures magnificent ;
much of the gilding in which they had gloried
was transferred to the seat of his inexpressibles ;
be was sprinkled over with sawdust ; and, to
make the matter more conclusive, a foot and
three inches and one-half of Madam Fame^s
trumpet was found under the very gun where
Jack had slept, and the right ear of one of the
little children in his starboard trousers pocket,
that he must have pinched off in a moment
of amiable playfulness.
Before Jack had well cleared his intellects
94 JACK A6H0SE.
from the effects of his debauch, he was made
aware of the unpleasant situation in which he
lay, not stood, for he kept his hammock all the
next day, being reported sick, — which was
much more easy for him to do than for Captain
Firebrass to keep his temper. The latter did not
attempt it, but, like a good-hearted fellow as he
really was^ being fully aware of his infirmity,
he kept his cabin, and found as much vent for
his rage as he could, by breaking sundry arti-
cles of his furniture.
As Jack is shortly going to be put upon
his trial, before that momentous affair com-
mences, let us try to give our friends some little
idea of his personal ai^earance. He was a
fine, straight; broad-chested fellow, standing
just six feet without his shoes. Had it not
been for the too great width of his shoulders,
and the muscular accumulations upon his arms,
bis symmetry would have been as perfect as that
of the Belvidere Apollo. But this little dis^
proportion was produced by his hanging his
whole weight upon ropes, running up the rig-
ging like a cat, and making more use of
JACK ASUOBE. 95
his arms than of his legs. His feet, in their
smallne8s» were almost ladylike^ Proud was
Jack of them ; and in a little sharply pointed
shoe he could shuflle them so rapidly in his
hornpipe that they became all but invisible.
We cannot give so much praise to bis hands;
they were enormously large and horny, with a
tremendous spread, every finger of which
looked like a chump of a small hawser. His
grip must have been terrific. All the parts of
his person that were not exposed to the weather
were delicately fair, and his hair, of a real and
pure auburn, with not a shade of the carrot
among it, covered his head with short, thick,
and vigorous curls. His pigtail^-and then it
was a point of honour to sport one--was im*
meosely thick and clubbed, but, owing to its
aptitude to curl, would never lie straight down
his back, but turned itself up very impudently,
so that his pate seemed to have a hook fastened
to it behind. Though his face was broad, it
was glorious in a beautiful manliness, and its
expression of reckless good-nature won the heart
at oDce. To look only at his large mellow
96 JACK A8H0BE.
blue eyesy you would suppose that you were
gazing upon a woman, or one endued with all
a woman's sweetness and tenderness of nature ;
but this was more than balanced by the bold
outline of the nose, the resolution that seemed
settled upon the lips when they were in a state
•
of repose, and the determination of the rounded
chin. His smile was a fascination, and his
teeth would have been unrivalled in their ap-
pearance, had he not stained them foully by
chewing tobacca Thus his natural advan-
tages had been overabundant, whilst the po-
verty of his mental acquirements had nearly
rendered them nugatory.
Even as a man-of-war's man he was not per-
fect He had received his one, his two, and his
three dozens at the gangway, and had, in gene-
ral, deserved them. His principal vices pro-
ceeded from a bountiful and luxuriant animal
conformation. His intense relish for sensual
pleasures too often made him forget the dignity
of manhood; his high spirits sometimes be-
trayed him into insolence to his superiors ; and
the consciousness of his great physical strength
JACK A8H0XK. 97
into oppression and tyranny towards his equals
and inferiors in station. Had he been taught
virtue^ he would have loved it ; he was affec-
tionate and very grateful in his nature ; when
not too severely tried, of great good temper ;
generous to extravagance, and of an innate
nobleness of heart that made him loathe every-
thing that was in the least shabby. He was
unsuspecting and simple; but when once de-
ceived, and he discovered it, let the deceiver
stand clear, for he was as rash in his resent-
ments aa he was open in his confiding nature.
At times, when standing apart from his ship-
mates, with folded arms, and resting partially
upon one of the tremendous pieces of ordnance
with which the Glory was armed, he had more
than an aristocratic — ^he had a decidedly heroic
look. He seemed bom to command, and to be
conscious of it But this elevation of character
was discernible in him in his moments of musing
only. A single word, even a look from a ship-
mate, and he was again the roystering, swear*
iDg, devil-may-care man-of-war^s man.
In all its varieties he was a thorough seaman.
VOL. 1. V
98 JACK ASHOBE.
When the huge ship was flying through the
lashing waves before the demon of the storm, it
was John Truepenny^s nervous arm that held
the weather-spoke of the wheel, and his un-
quailing eye that watched the coming of the
mountain wave, in order to ease dexterously
with the helm the surging of the labouring
vessel. He was the captain of his gun, and
generally his tact at availing himself of the
heave of the sea, and his aim, could be depended
upon. Often, when the Old Glory was blus-
tering after some strange sail that would not
heave-to to be examined and the long-headed
gunner had himself tried to bring her to with
the chase-gun on the forecastle, a favourite
long four-and-tweuty-pounder, and failed, he
would say, *^ Let Jack Truepenny try his
hand ;" and a rent sail or a dropping spar
generally proved the excellence of the advice,
and the contumacious absconder would up with
her courses, and back her main^topsail with be-
coming diligence.
As to Jack's book-learning, the best part of
it was yet to be acquired. He could read any
JACK ASHOBE* 99
work in the English language, but his taste led
bim to prefer the manrellous. He also wrote a
good round hand — ^not expeditiously oertidnly,
but verj Isfphly and carefully — so carefully,
that when you saw him in the act that leads
people to commit forgery, before he made the
letter on the paper, you might observe him
forming it with bis lips, by screwing. them up
into the oddest of all possible shapes. In his
orthography he was a strenuous advocate for
the unbounded liberty of conscience^ so dear to
a freebom ^Englishman. He had a right to
spell as he chose, and he chose to spell after his
own fashion ; the dictionaries had their method,
and he had his. If a man chose to take Sheri-
dan, or Walker, or Johnson, for an authority as
to what letters should form a word, Jack had
no objection to it, but he thought it a great
trouble ; he always abided by an authority at
his command at all times, and that was John
Truepenny^s. John used very reasonably to
observe, that there was no very great merit in
being able to read that which was properly
spelled — it was like crossing a river with a fine
F 2
100 JACK ASHORE.
bridge built over it ; but to read some writing
— bis own, for instance, when he was pathetic —
there was the glory— it could be compared to
crossing a torrent upon a few broken sticks.
Such is an outline of Jack, morally and phy-
sically. We must now leave him for a short
time in his hammock, to recover from the effects
of his inordinate carousing on pay-day.
JACK ASBOKE. 101
CHAPTER VII.
Lootethoogfats on tlie lost for wealtb-^Hoir to make lords of
joor distant pottoritj— Mooh about pedigree and pettifog-
ging, and other matters as diy as an old parchment.
When families have intomarried for two or
three generations, the several relationships be-
tween all but the princifMil members of them
become as intricate as the sphynx riddle, and
as tangled as the unkempt hair of a boy at a
cheap boarding-school, or the ideas of a prime
minister who cannot exactly make up his mind
to resign. Were it not for the singularity of
the appearance, we would, in this our veracious
narrative, have caused to be engraved a genea-
logical tree, in order to show in what relation-
102 JACK A8H0BE.
ship Sir Edward Fortintower stood to Ann
Truepenny, and to her grandfather, and where
was the exact sprout on the same tree that was
lopped off, or missed, and which now, Mr.
Scrivener had more than hinted at, was again
to be found, and engrafted on the parent stem,
to the injury, if not to the utter ruin, of Sir Ed-
ward. We must, instead, attempt to explain
this matter verbally.
We will begin with the line of the True-
pennys. They first sprang into affluence and
notice in the reign of William and Mary, as
merchants. At that time the public or na-
tional debt began to grow into importance, and
the Truepenny of that period plainly foresaw
what it would ultimately lead to. He had fan-
cied that, like most other people, he had ances-
tors-^a fancy so natural, that no one would
dispute with him the possession of it ; but when
he asserted that he came from the common
stock of the Fortintowers, which family once
gave England its loftiest and proudest peers,
people laughed at him as an infatuated, vain
old man. However, he persisted in his opinion.
JACK ASHOBS. 103
and, by the means of the fund% resoWed to
work out his purpose ; and many a less noble
undertaking has won the world's admiration,
and been glorified as a great and heroic deed.
It was, that he should be the instrument of re-
storing this family to its pristine grandeur, and
that one of his immediate descendants should
be, or should give to the world, an Earl of For*
tiniower, and that this earl should be the richest
of England's nobility.
In order to effect this, he reserved a large
sum of money in the stocks, that was to lie
there and accumulate at compound interest,
until such time as it would be able by its
own magnitude to bring about the desired ob-
ject, either by purchasing the earldom and title
for a male descendant, or if none should remain,
for a female who should intermarry with a
genuine Fortintower, and then the wealth was
to do its oflBce for both.
This gentleman, so ambitious for his poste-
rity, was well aware that his will was not strictly
legal, and that a needy or a sensual set of heirs
might attempt to set it aside. To obviate this
104 JACK A8H0RB.
as much as in him lay, he made a solemn ap-
peal in this document from son to son ; and as
his family was never numerous, and indepen-
dent of this reserved fund they were more than
sufficiently rich, it had remained intact until
the present time, and was now of an enormous
amount The perpetual trusteeship of this
money was invested in the representative of the
Truepenny family for the time being, and two
other trustees, who were to appoint trustees
after them until the earldom was acquired, and
then the vast property was to follow the usual
modes of inheritance.
For a length of time a Truepenny very regu-
larly begot a Truepenny, and each, as he came
into possession of the property and the trust,
asked himself, Is it time ? But circumstances
always gave an answer decidedly in the nega-
tive. Thus affairs and time wore on, and the
very ancient Marcus Truepenny, Esq. was the
sole representative supposed to be living, and
principal trustee to the immense accumulations
in the funds. He was the fifth in descent from
him who may justly be called the founder of
JACK ASHORE. 105
the Truepenny wealth. His fiEither had been
thrice married. By his first alliance he had
issue one son, who also married and had but
one son, old Truepenny, now living, and in him
the oldest branch of the males of that line ter-
minated. By old Truepenny ^s second marriage
there was also bom to him one son, who died
without children ; and by his third and last
marriage, a third son, George, was bom, who
▼ery early in life took to the most profligate
courses, and lived with or married a distant
cousin of the very family which the Truepenny
dynasty was endeavouring to amalgamate with
their own, or supplant
What became of George Truepenny and his
wife, or whether they had any children, no one
seemed to know, or, till now, to have cared.
This step of George Truepenny was the very
w<Nrst, and the most inimical to the Truepenny
project, that could have been taken. It wa^
merging his own family,and in a manner actually
annihilating its identity with a beggarly ofishoot
of the very house that they had striven, for so
many generations, to represent. It was, how-
F 5
106 JACK ASHORE.
ever, from this obscure source that all the
dangers that threatened Sir Edward were to
be apprehended.
However, the father of this George True-
penny, just before he died, relented, and vainly
sought out his son, in order that he might
benefit by some portion of the family wealth ;
and being full of hope that he should soon re-
gain him, he purchased for him, and for his
heirs male, from the venal ministry of the
day, the title of baronet ; and the patent was
duly executed ; but the old man shortly after
died, and so suddenly, that he had made for
his lost son no pecuniary provision with which
to support the title ; indeed, the son never ap-
peared, but died in obscurity, and in ignorance
of the honour that was purchased for him, and
of the good that was intended him.
We must now refer to the undoubtedly an-
cient family of the Fortintowers, In very
remote times they had been dukes, then earls,
then barons, as they approached the modern
era, and at last dwindled down to mere baronets.
Their race seems to have been submitted to a
JACK ASHOEB. 107
prooett, the very reverse of that which their
soi-^Usani branch, the Truepenny, wished to
institute. They gradually, through one cause
or another, lost honours and distinctions, though
they had kept their blood very pure. Indeed,
they seem to have understood the vanity of
titles, to have despised the boast of heraldry,
and to have eschewed it for the more substan*
tial advantage of increasing their estates. They
grew uncommonly rich, and the last baronet.
Sir Mortimer Fortintower, was, if not actually
a miser, a character as nearly approaching to it
as a well-born gentleman could be.
Now, this last baronet. Sir Mortimer, died
c^hildless, and as the title was strictly entailed
in the direct line of the heirs male, when his
immense estates devolved on his brother, the
herald's office had to record one baronetcy less.
Mr. Fortintower, of Fortintower, had three
sons, Alfred, Benjamin, and Charles. Alfred,
the eldest, made a love-match, by which he had
five daughters and no son. Having offended
his father, he lived in obscurity and poverty,
and died before his parent. The property,
108 JACK ASHORE.
like the title, was confined to heirs male, so
long as they existed ; therefore Alfred's daugh-
ters were paupers, though grandchildren of a
man of such vast estates. It was the youngest
and fifth daughter, Martha, with whom the re-
probate Truepenny formed a connexion, — whe-
ther legal or not, until the time of our tale, no
one of the Fortintowers seemed to know or tg
have cared.
Benjamin, the second son, and the presumed
heir, after the death of Alfred, to Mr. Fortin-
tower, died a bachelor ; and Charles, the third
son, married and had a numerous family, all
of which died, save one daughter, who had,
against both the wishes of her father and grand-
father, married a poor scholar of the name of
Abbot, and doubly exasperated all her rela-
tions by presuming to be very happy with
him.
In order the more efiectually to punish this
act of insubordination and contumely, Charles
and his father joined together to cut ofi^ the
entail, and they contrived also to smuggle
through parliament a short private act, to
JACK ASHORE. 109
enable father and son, or the survivor, to dis-
pose arbitrarily and absolutely of all the family
property. Mr. Fortintower, however, survived
his son Charles, but he was never reconciled to
his grand-daughter, Mrs. Abbot.
When^ at a very advanced age, Mr. Fortin*
tower turned it over in his mind that he could
not take his wealth with him, he began to think
of disposing of it, and made active inquiries
after his granddaughters by his eldest son,
Alfred. The four eldest of these were proved
to have lived in misery, and to have died un-
married, and in obscurity and want. What
actually became of the fifth and youngest
daughter, Martha, who had for some time lived
with George Truepenny, either as his mistress
or his wife, could not be accurately ascertained.
It was generally supposed that they had pe-
rished from off the face of the earth, and left
no vestige behind them. This report was the
more confirmed by the ineffectual attempts of
George's father to discover them.
In this state of affairs, old Mr. Fortintower
naturally looked towards his granddaughter,
110 JACK ASHORE.
Mrs. Abbot, the only surviving child of his
favourite son Charles. He found that both she
and her husband were dead, and that they had
left but one child, Edward, who was at that
time at school, a burthen to the not very opu-
lent family of the Abbots.
In Edward^s favour, then, his great grand-
father disposed of all his property, on the
usual condition, that he assumed the family
name of Fortintower. But all through this
important document, and in every clause of it,
there was a reservation for the rights of the
offspring, whether male or female, of his eldest
son Alfred, if any offspring legally begotten
should appear ; and if there should, that per-
son was to take Edward^s place in all the be-
nefits devised by the will, settling and securing
on the latter the sum of five hundred pounds
yearly.
But old Mr. Fortintower finished his will by
a very judicious proviso. It began by stating
the hardship that would be inflicted upon Ed-
ward, if, after possessing his wealth for many
years, and supposing it to be absolutely his
JACK ASHORE. Ill
owDj under that impresaoii, that he should
have married and made other engagements in
aooordanoe with his supposed wealth, to be
then obliged to yield or litigate it with a
claimant suddenly started forward ; he there-
fore limited the time for his granddaughter's
heirs, if any, to benefit by his wfll, until ten
years after his death ; and then, if after that
period they established a daim to be of his
kindred, they were to have five hundred a year
each, be they many, or few, or one.
Now, Mr. Fortintower had been dead more
than nine years, and should no claimant ap*
pear (and none was ever dreamed of till now)
for twelve months longer, Sir Edward Fortin-
tower was perfectly safe*
This is a long and weary history of pedigreefs
but we were obliged to inflict it on the reader,
for the better understanding the predicament
in which Sir Edward just now found himself.
The cup of bliss was threatened to be dashed
from his lips, even at the eleventh hour.
No one knew all these particulars correctly,
excepting Mr. Scrivener and Sir Edward. The
112 JACK ASHORE.
wily lawyer had been, for many years, confi-
dentially employed by Sir Edward, and ad-
mitted to his friendship and his familiarity.
During this intercourse^ Mr. Scrivener'sdaughter
had grown into womanhood, and the father
began to entertain for her the most ambitious
expectations. When these were fully under-
stood, Sir Edward dropped all social inter-
course with the lawyer^s family, and took his
affairs totally out of his hands. This appeared
not to give so much ofience as grief to Mr.
Scrivener, and Miss Scrivener was nearly broken-
hearted, and perhaps would have been really
worried into an illness by her misplaced affec-
tion, had not her parent continually fed her
with hopes — hopes that he believed that he had,
at any time, the power to realise.
Now, Mr. Scrivener was, in his profession
excepted, a profoundly ignorant man. But this
ignorance was not apparent in the usual routine
of social intercourse. The mere lawyer, as he
is represented on the stage, exists not in so-
ciety; and yet Mr. Scrivener was a mere
lawyer. But his mingling with gentlemen, as
JACK A8H0BK* 113
well as with members of all orders of society,
had given polish to his manners, fluency to his
conversation, and even some degree of elegance
to his address. His natural good sense made
him express himself forcibly and correctly upon
most topics of general conversation, and yet
he was more ignorant than is the mass of me-
chanics. On any subject connected with li*
terature^ the fine arts, or philosophy, the
crassitude of his mind was astonishing. His
morality, his religion, as well as his knowledge,
were confined to the law ; and all that the law
enabled him to achieve, or permitted him to do
with impunity, that he did without conscience
and without remorse.
114 JACK A8H0R£.
CHAPTER VIII.
Off to Ma tgaiii — Jaok stQl afloat, and in a acrape^Makes a
bad band at saying bis back^*Tbings look dismal — Jack
in tbe bilboes, and the captain billons — ^Tbe captain of
marines mancenyring witb a long story.
We must now be away again to Spithead.
The day but one after the abduction of the
glory from the head of tbe Old Glory, Captain
Firebrass issued from his cabin exceedingly
wroth.
The surgeon had reported poor John True-
penny fit for duty— that is, well capable to re-
ceive on his bare back three or four dozen
lashes from the cat*o'->nine tails, as it might
seem good to his captain to bestow.
It was just seven bells — that is, half-past
eleven in the forenoon — when Jack made his
JACK A8HORK. 115
appearance on the quarter-deck« to answer for
maaifold high crimes and misdemeanors to be
then and there aUeged against him. He stood
boldly apright before his commander, as an
innocent man should stand; yet was there a
certain dash of shame upon his handsome fea*
tuies^ that seemed to struggle with his honest
expressioa of indignation. On the binnacle lay
the articles of war, the ofBcers wore their side
arms, and there was an ill-looking guard of
marines drawn up on the poop. These were
awkward demonstrations, and Jack understood
them but too welL It was very evident that
every one pitied him, even the skipper who had
predetermined to flay him ; but he was resolved
that some one should be offered up as a sacrifice
to appease his wrath.
The first lieutenant, in order a little to mol-
Kfy the temper of the captain, and somewhat
to divert his attention, took that opportunity of
reporting to him that the artificers from the
dockyard had just comjdeted the fiddle-head,
in substitution for the lost group, and that it
looked remarkably welL Captain Firebrass
116 JACK ASHORE.
made no reply to this, excepting by a gloomy
and forbidding scowl, when Mr. Trestletree,
the master, stepped up, and humbly ventured
an opinion that the ship would now lie a
quarter of a point nearer to the wind, and that
she would infallibly work less heavily. To
this kind suggestion Captain Frirebrass made
no other reply, than a permission to the master
to go to that place which it is reckoned not polite
to name. The old master murmured something
in reply, to the effect that he might as well, for
all the comfort he got, as stay under his com-
mand, but that he would take further time to
reflect upon his gracious permission.
*^ John Truepenny," said Captain Firebrass,
** stand forward.''
Jack stood forward, and faced the fiery
glance of his commander, witli a mild yet un-
daunted look. It was hardly possible for his
full blue eyes to look fiercely.
" You were drunks John Truepenny, all day
on Monday, and were not sober all day on
Tuesday. By the jumping Jesuit 1 I'll flog
you.''
JACK ASHORE. 117
*' Fay-day, your honour," said Jack, sub-
miaBiTely.
** Pay-day, you rum-swilling son of a sea*
cook ; bow long does pay-day last ?^
*^ Till a poor fellow gets sober, your
honour.''
This shrewd answer produced an almost
general smile ; but it bad no other effSect upon
Firebrass than to make him take a nervous
pluck at the waistband of his trousers, and
utter peevishly, ** By gad ! but FU flog him
however."
^ Yes, you soaked swab,^ he continued ;
^ and so, if you had but the means, pay-day
would last you till doomsday, and when the
angel piped all hands up hatches, you would
be so drunk that you would not be able to give
an account of yourself, and thus the devil
would claw you off in the gulping of a glass
of half-and-half; and what would be thought
of me at head-quarters — of me, your captain,
to sutkr that? No, no; let stave-singing
Gambroon say what he will, I have too much
religion in me to see my ship*s company damned
118 JACK ASHOBK,
in that fashion — I have too much concern for
your precious soul. Ill flog you — not exactly
for being drunk on pay-day, but for making a
beast of yourself beyond all beastliness of
honest seaman-like drunkenness.''
** I hope you von^t flog me, your honour/'
said Jack, ratreatingly, ^ for this same spree.
I am ashamed of it, and even the very hair on
my head seems as if it would disown me. Look
over it. Captain Firebrass^ for this once, and
pardon me for what I have suffered, and for
what I still suffer ; for somehow my eyes seem
opened to my disgrace. If you flog me for this,
there '11 be a good man spoiled, your honour,
though I say it who should not say it— spoiled
for ever and ever ; lost to my king and coun*
try, and to myself. If I am flogged now, I
shall never be worth my salt again I"
** A good — a thorough good man,^' said the
first lieutenant
*^ A real seaman,'' said the master.
*' A better fellow," said the boatswain, made
bold by this general appeal in his favour,
'^ never tailed on the foresheet."
JACK ABHOBK. 119
<^ Braye as a lion,** said the gunner ; '^ your
lioDOur must remember that he cut down the
sooundrelly parley vous that bad hold of your
honour's precious tbioat, and you couldn't get
a stngle damn fairly upwards.^
** He's a very civil fellow,^ said the captain
of marines, **and has always rolunteered to
carry me through the surf on his back, when-
ever there was a sea at landing.'^
*' He is an excellent man,*' said the surgeon ;
*' he was never before on the sick list, and gives
no manner of trouble.^
•* Pray do— do^ Captain Firebrass,*' said they
all in a chorus.
** Well, well," said the captain peevishly,
<< ni look over the drink ; but I think hell
catch his four dozen yet. There's one thing that
Mr. Boltshot — may he be d d for it ! — has
said, that requires me publicly to answer. John
Truepenny Baved my life — what's that? I
acknowledge it — what then P I tell you, men
and officers, it was his duty— I speak as his
commander and yours — I don't see any parti-
cular merit in it."
120 JACK A8H0BE*
c(
I am sure I don't, sir,'* said the booby
lieutenant of the marines, wishing to conciliate
the fiery monster.
There was a general giggle, and Firebrass
turned upon him like a mad cat, and cdm«
menced — ** You chamber-skipping slip of a
vattey de «Aam, (for thus he pronounced it,)
who the devil ever supposed you could ever see
merit at all, or know even what the word means ?
Out upon you, you pipeclaying compound of
starch and pomatum ! But I forget myself.
I say there was no merit in saving my life ;
there is no merit, my lads, in doing your duty ;
and mine I certainly should not do, if, because
any man happened to save the life of a humble
post-captain of the royal navy, I overlooked
any breach of his duty. I speak as an officer ;
but as a man, and with the feelings that a man
should be proud to own, John Truepenny,
whilst I have a shilling shall never know want,
and when I die, my will shall prove that I am
not ungrateful to the strong arm and the brave
heart that stood in the moment of extreme peril
between me and death. But, as an officer, I will
f
^
JACK A8H0BE« 121
flog him, nevertheless, if he deserves it — and I
am afraid he deserves it now— *by the jumping
Jesuit ni flog him — so that's my mind. Now,
Jdin Truepenny, do you deny that you lent
a hand in despoiling the ship of her magnificent
figure-head ?^
" Drunk, your honour,'' was the submissive
reply.
*' Drunk ! but I might tell you, my man,
that in a legal, and in a moral sense also,
drunkenness, instead of being an extenuation,
is an aggravation of ofience. But, from the
state of your dress, and other circumstantial
evidence you could not have been so drunk as
not to have known what you were doing. Tell
me now, openly, all that passed, and if I can
find any room for mitigation — mind, I say mi*
ligation — of punishment, I shall gladly, very
gladly indeed, avail myself of it. I do not
believe that you were the author, or even one
of the principals, in this insult to your captain
and to your ship ; but that you were mainly
accessory to it, I think is beyond a doubt."
We have omitted, in deference to the public
VOL. I. G
132 JACK ASHORE.
taste, the interlarding oaths that added to the
vigour of this ftpeecb-^a speech to which, for
some minutes, poor Jack knew not how to frame
a reply* He scratched his bead, he twiddled
with his thumbs, he looked pitifully into the
face of every officer about him, and then most
intently into bis tarpaulin hat, that lay with its
top downwards, at his feet before him, on the
quarterdeck. But be found assistance nowhere.
At length he said, ** Please your honour, will
you give me time to think on't ? I'm all con-
fused like."
<< Half an hour, and a bucket of cold
water,^ said the captain. ** There, take your
march on the larboard gangway ; and, in the
language of the judges, * May Grod give you a
good deliverance ! ^ **
Bewildered Jack Truepenny took the walk,
and declined the water. He could make nothing
of it ; yet he became sensible that somehow or
another he had assisted in pitching the gods
and goddesses overboard ; but it all appeared
to hin^ like a misty dream, and as a dream he
made up his mind to tell it to the captain.
JACK A8HORB. 123
When his half hour of deliberation had ex«
he weat sorrowfully aft, and told the
captain he would do his best to let him know
all thai occurred* The officers of the ship
again congregated around him with intense
cuiioaity. He then detailed all that we have
before related, as a dream* He was, to the
best of bis ability, minutely correct as to his
impressions ; but his love of the truth, and his
honesty, did not meet with their adequate re-
ward. Even his friends fell from him, and
thought that he was, in their own phrase, ro-
mancing.
The captain, who considered himself as
treated like a child, and as one who could be
fooled by a lie he deemed so apparent, grew
furious; but he let him finish his tale, how-
ever, and when it was done^ he said to him
sternly, *' John Truepenny, for the first time
in my life I think meanly of you. A little
while ago, and it would have nearly broken my
heart to have flogged you. That weakness is
passed. I will now have you seized up with as
little remorse as I would hang or shoot a mad
6 S
124 JACK ASHORE.
dog. Are we idiots to believe all this rigmarole
story ?**
*' True, upon my salvation l^ said Jack,
gulping down an hysterical sob of emotion, not
of fear at the flogging, but of hurt pride at
being thought base enough to lie.
<^ Impudent liar !** said Firebrass, now stamp-
ing with rage ; ** that you were dreadfully,
beastly, despicably drunk, is most certain; but
it is not the less certain that this state of in-
toxication was produced after you assisted at
the removal of the figure-head, and not before.
At two o*clock, when the ship's corporal went
his rounds, you were seen sleeping decently,
and cleanly, under the gun at which you mess,
and no more drunk than you had a right to be;
but, when you were dragged out from thence
in the morning, you had been swallowing raw
rum until you wallowed in it, like a filthy
sow. The; last fit of drunkenness took place
after the figure-head was gone, and I have but
very little doubt but that the beastly rum was
the price of your mutinous and disgraceful con-
duct,**
JACK A8HORK. 125
To all this Jack could only clasp bis hands,
and appeal to bis God that he was innocent of
all such intention as that with which the cap-
tain charged him. He would plead guilty
only to the drunkenness ; and persisted, as he
could not do otherwise, that he was totally un-
conscious, if he really had been in the head, of
all that passed, so as to give any account, other
than that offered to his drunken impressions of
what occurred.
Captain Firebrass, being aware that he was
labouring dreadfully under his infirmity of
pasdon, would not flog Truepenny on that day,
but ordered him into irons, intimating that on
the following noon he should receive a very
severe punishment, which would probably be
followed by disrating him as a petty officer, and
that be should no more do duty as second cap-
tain of the forecastle. *' And hark ye I Mr.
Abominable Liar !** said the enraged Firebrass ;
** I coidd almost cut my own throat when I
think that such a scoundrel as you should have
saved my life. But, d — ^n you. 111 be just — I
will not alter my good intentions towards you
126 JACK A8H0EB.
as a man — I will not alter niy will. You have
told me a base lie — ^you have tried to laugh
at me in my very face-^you have conspired
with my enemies to insult me. O John Troe^
penny, you have lost your best friend ; I shall
never respect you more.*^
** You may flc^ me now, captain/* said poor
Jack, the tears fast rolling down his cheeks ;
** it is of no consequence now. I only hope
that I shall die under the lash. You have
wronged me dreadfully — ^never, never, never,
will I again receive kindness at your hands.
And yet I do think that some day you 11 be
sorry for this."
** Take him away ! put him in irons !"
shouted the captain.
'* You have destroyed a good man, Captain
Firebrass. May Grod forgive you ! I have
spoken nothing but the truth.''
With sullen apathy Jack was led by the
ship's corporals, and put in irons undo* the
half-deck. Strict orders were given to the
sentry not to allow any one to converse with
him, and no one was permitted to approach
JACK ASUOBB. 127
him, excepting one of bis messmates at the usual
times, in order to bring bim his rations— or, as
the seamen call it, bis whack of prog and no
grog, for that was stopped.
Captain Firebrass paced tbe starboard side
of the quarter-deck for some time, in order that
the turbulence of bis rage might a little sub*
side ; for be was extremely mortified as well as
enraged at not being able to trace to Lord
Gambroon the concoction of the insult that he
felt persuaded he had put upon him. He
wu now fully convinced that Jack had been
bribed into being a confederate with his lord-
ship^s emissaries^ and then he could have d^
voured Jack in his rage. Afterwards, the possi-
bility that Jack was honest would occur to
him, and then he was ready to devour himself.
In this state of perturbation tlie captain of
marines walked over to him, and, addressing
him very respectfully, begged leave to say a
few words to him.
**' Short, short — be short. Captain Curtois,*'
said the skipper, impatiently.
*' In short, then, I think that John True-
1S!8 JACK A8HORR.
penny has told you the truth, and that every-
thing took place according to bis impressions,
in the way he described, though nothing was
really as he fancied he saw it."
^' In short. Captain Curtois^ you wish to
make it out that I am a tyrannical rascal, and
that the fellow in irons is an innocent martyr/'
** I would have no such harsh and disrespect-
ful construction put upon my words,** said the
captain of the marines, no way disconcerted;
^^ but if you would have the kindness and
the patience to listen to something that hap-
pened to me, not very dissimilar in its nature
from the mess that this man has got into, when
I was partially intoxicated, it would perhaps
make you pause before you ultimately con-
demned this poor fellow.*'
'^ Is it a long story. Captain Curtois ?^'
" Why, sir, it is, to be well understood,
something lengthy ; but I would not mind being
thought prosy, if I could serve a fellow-creature
in trouble.**
** That is very handsomely said, sir. Now,
as I don*t think your tale will go down easily
JACK ASHORE. 129
with me, you shall try my claret to help it ;
and as I know that the moral will be
very unpalatable, at least to me, we will have
it to-day, with our fruit and crackers, after
dinner. So I shall expect you at six bells ; but,
Captain Curtois, it must be a strong and a
long yam, and spun in a very seamanlike man-
ner, that will convince me that this John True-
penny was not art and part — as the lawyers say
— damn them ! — ^in aiding and abetting the
saints — damn them f — in stealing my head.
Damn everything an inch and a half high ! — So,
sir, I^ wish you farewell till dinner-time."
G 5
ISO JACK ASaOBK.
CHAPTER IX.
One foot on Mt, tnd one on ahor»-^onsUat noror— M neb
about lore and law ; tbe law yiewed loWnglj, and the love
lawfully— Good adrioe ill received, and a veiy intereiting
conyertation upon matters matrimonial.
In order to bring forward the two divisions of
our narrative pari ptisauy we must still skip
alternately from the sea to the shore ; and, just
now, our business lies with Sir Edward. We
think that we have made our friends aware that
he was, though a brilliant, by no means a per-
fect character ; but he was still so much the
nearer to it, as be never made any pretensions
to perfection. He was exceedingly worried at
the apparent danger that threatened his for-
tunes; for, upon retaining possession of his
estates, everything that was dear to him, all
JACK ASHORK. 131
that be valued io life, depended. It is certainly
a sublime spectadet that of a great and good
man struggling heroicallj against adverse for-
tune. He fully acknowledged all the beauty
of it, but he would much rather have contem-
plated the part than have performed it
As he sprang into his cabriolet after his
painful interview with Mr. Scrivener, his first
impulse was to proceed to Miss Truepenny,
and pour out all his troubles and anxieties be-
fore her; but reflection soon convinced him
that this would be a most selfish proceeding.
He loved her ardently, and admired her ex-
ceedingly ; and this admiration, as she slowly
unveiled to his mind all her excellence^ was
gradually increasing. But, as yet, he knew her
not. She had always appeared to him so placid
and so quiet, that he never gave her credit for
high feeling or great resolve. Though he knew
her to be intrinsically good, he deemed her not
to be a person who would be capable of making
a great sacrifice ; yet he believed her to be so
amiable that she would attempt it, and sink
under it. As yet, she had not been accustomed
132 JACK ASHORE.
to receive from bim the direction of her con-
duct : and even if she were inclined to do so,
how would he act P There lay the bitterness of
thought.
As these cogitations were swaying his mind,
now to one course of action, now to another
diametrically opposite, he much surprised his
servant by driving up all manner of possible
streets, and sometimes into alleys that could
not boast of thoroughfares. At length he be-
came totally unconscious of his whereabouts,
and upon applying to his tiger for information,
be also affected not to know ; so Sir Edward
got into the 6rst hackney-coach that offered
itself, and telling the lad to find his way home
with the cabriolet in the best manner he could,
ordered himself to be driven to Clement's
Inn.
London is certainly the most convenient place
in the world to get into every possibility of
scrape. The opportunities that it offers for
ruin are as innumerable as the temptations to
them lire inexhaustible. But there is this re-
deeming point in its favour, that if a remedy
JACK A8HOKE. 133
for an evil, or an alleviation to a misfortune
exist, the Leviathan city can produce it. In
it, the greatest and rarest curiosities may be
found. We do not wish to stretch the readei^s
fiuth beyond the bounds of credulity ; but we
do assure him, that in London the singular
phenomenon may be discovered of at least two*
or very probably three, hcnest lawyers.
We beg to be understood as not using this
as a oommon*place sarcasm. We mean the
word honest to be understood thoroughly in the
moral and christian sense. Till some great
reformation takes place in society, if a lawyer
perform all that his profession and connexion
requires of him, he cannot be morally, though
he be very legally, an honest man. The fault
is not his, but the constitution of the elements
of the refinement in which he existSi If lawyers
were strictly honest, and rigidly refused to lend
themselves to anything that swerved in the
least from right, it is evident that there could
be no litigation ; and if there were not litiga*
tioo, there could be no need of lawyers, except-
ing to act as stewards and trustees.
184 JACK ABHORS*
We will not further pursue this iDvidioua
subject, but merely repeat that there are two or
three thoroughly honest lawyers in London —
men whom no consideration could induce to
defend a bad cause, or to uphold a good one by
bad means. Of course, these are the outcasts
and the pariahs of the profession. They are
not smiled upon by counsel, nor are their names
strongly accentuated by the judges as respect*
able ; they come not to their offices in phaetons,
they have no suburban villa, nor have they
lady-like wives and insolent o£Pspring residing
in squares at the west end.
But why need we occupy so much time
about a few miserables, that have neither
the spirit to get rich like their brethren, nor
to commit suicide in order to remove oppro*
brium from an honourable profession P We
have only to do with one of them, on whom
Sir Edward Fortintower happened one day to
stumble by a strange accident. They fell into
friendship on the spot, and the sentiment
remained in full force for ever after.
Josiah Singleheart occupied the first floor, the
JACK A8H0AS. 185
attics, and the kitchen, at a cheeBemoDgei^s in
6ray*8-iDn Lane. The first floor front was his
office in the daytime^ and his drawing-room
after the hoars of business; it answered the
double purpose extremely welL We shall not
expose the other arrangements of his humUe
eocmomy. We shall merely state, that he was
very happy in an amiable and very pretty wife,
and two young daughters. The few who knew,
loved him ; and as he never was known to per^
mit a client of his to bring an action, and that
he hardly ever suffered him to defend one, his
business in the courts was all but nominaL
His principal sources of emolument consisted
in being the town agent for gentlemen residing
in the country, in adjusting diflbrences, and
committing as many legal suicides as he could,
by preventing people from going to law.
The meeting between Sir Edward Fortin^
tower and Mr. Singleheart was like the min-
gling of two beams of sunshine. After all the
most friendly inquiries had been made and
answered, the cheerfulness gradually disap-
peared from Sir Edward's countenance, and his
186 JACK ASHORE.
friend was not slow in remarking it An unre-
stricted communication of all his fears was soon
made by Sir Edward, and, as he proceeded, it
was very easy to discern, by the countenance of
his friend, what that astute lawyer thought of
his situation.
When the conference was ended, Mr. Single-
heart bade Edward hope nothing, and to fear
for everything. He advised him, as an ho-
nourable man, himself to set about inquiring if
any person better entitled to his fortune were
in existence, and if such were the case, to resign
it without a struggle.
** You will then, my young friend,^ he con-
tinued, ^* be thrown on your own resources,
and they are neither few nor mean. You have
now an opportunity of proving yourself intrin-
sically great ; and though it is hardly probable
that you will ever acquire so much wealth as
you must refdgn, more than sufficient for any
laudable ambition I am sure you may easily
obtain. With your permission, I will imme-
diately and kindly set about the inquiry that
is to disinherit you, and thus we shall fprestal
JACK A8H0EE. 137
Mr. Scrivener, deprive him of lome thousands
of pounds of nefarious costs, and prove you to
the wcHld, what I have always known you to
be^ a right-hearted and an honest man.*^
Sir Edward smiled faintly at this bold and
eager compliment, and his heart acknowledged
it with a cold shiver.
'* If,^ observed Singleheart, *^ you receive a
letter from roe, telling you to prepare for the
worst, of course you will immediately reduce
your establishment, advertise for sale all pro-
perty strictly your own, such as horses, car-
riages, household furniture, and go immediately
into lodgings. You will feel a real glow of
virtuous satisfaction at making these sacrifices.*'
His friend gave a very mournful assent.
*' As to your accepting the Chiltem Hun-
dreds^ I would hardly advise that, although it
ought seriously to be thought of; but I rather
think, for your country's sake, that you should
keep your seat till a dissolution, and merely
for this reason — I do not think that it could be
supplied with a person of more talents— »with
an honester one I know that it could not. So
138 JACK ABHOAB.
I incline to permit you to retain your seat.**
(The good man bad already begtm to patronize.)
— '< And while you retain your seat, you may
retain your title also. But what you'll do
when you are no longer an M. P., the Lord
only, in his goodness, knows. Then you must
lay down your title of course ; a baronet, with
five hundred a year only, is ridiculous. Per-
haps your fortunate cousin might be prevailed
upon to induct you into one of the family
livings ; or, if now you had qualified yourself
for a parson, you might present yourself,— finr
I believe the terms of your grandfather^s will
expressly secure you from all annoyance as re-
gards arrears, restorations, &c. What do you
think of going into holy orders ?"
'* I have no call,^ said the comforted one, in
the most uncomfortable tone imaginable
" Well, what say you to the law ? you are yet
very young. I am most anxious to give you
consolation. I'll take you as my articled clerk,
without a premium. Now that's an ofier not to
be too readily slighted."
" It is not indeed ; — ^your articled clerk ?"
JACK A8HOEK. 189
'< Exactly. Not that I think youll succeed
in the law any more than I have done, but it
will well fit you for other things ; besides, when
you are dispossessed, you may get the steward*
sbipc^ what are now your own estates ; the man
who supplants you can hardly refuse you that,
if you donH litigate.^
^ A very reviving prospect,** said Sir Ed-
ward* '^ But what becomes of yourself, if I
dii^ilace you in this stewardship, which you
have filled for me with so much honesty and
sMlity?''
^ Oh, never mind me I I have long been used
to battle with the world. My articled derk, and
a candidate for the stewardship I Good ! I see
no great cause to^ depression of spirits. So go
home, my poor young friend, and make yourself
very happy."
** Well, Josiah," said Sir Edward, smiling,
'* I believe you to be the honestest man living,
and a very clever one withal ; but for a com*
forter — wdl, well, it is a great mercy that you
are not the ordinary of Newgate. Now set
140 JACK ASHORE.
about it with all the activity you can boast of,
to oust me from my estates."
*' I want no spur^ Sir Edward, to urge me
on to a good deed.*'
<* Exactly, I know it ; and when I am your
articled clerk **
** We will be as merry and as happy^ as —
*«As?'*
*^ As are those men who are honestly and in*
dustriously acquiring wealth are more happy
than they who are spending it foolishly, or
hoarding it avariciously 7*
They paused, and widely different were the
reflections of the two friends. The honest
attorney was feasting his imagination with what
a beautiful picture of heroism and grandeur
Sir Edward would exhibit as his articled clerk ;
whilst the latter was shuddering at the prospect
before him, and skulking along the streets with
his hat over his eyes to avoid being recognised,
resolving to do the right, yet agonizingly con-
scious of the bitterness of the sacrifice.
At this very time. Miss Scrivener, with her
JACK ASUOBB. 141
plump, Hebe-like, yet simple countenance, now
mantling with the smile of mere physical beauty,
and now with a most envious look of self-
awakened intelligence, was listening to the mild
Toice and gentle protestationa of Miss True-
penny, as she was now urging forward some
delicate labour of elegant ingenuity for the
wasting of time.
Of the two ladies, at the first view, the
preference of beauty would be given decidedly
to Miss Scrivener* Her complexion was more
fair, her colour more brilliant, the contour
of her face more rounded ; and nothing could
surpass the soft richness of her flaxen hair^
the profusion of which even art had failed
to twist into method, and which was thus the
more beautiful, as it was the more rebellious.
Her unfashionable earnestness, her too ready
Uush, her too often causeless smile, and her
sudden pout, mingled up with what she sup-
posed to be the exclusive refinement of manners^
gave to this young lady — ^to those who did not
require much elevation of mind or acuteness
of intellect — a charm that was really bewitching.
142 JACK AaHOEE.
Their conversation proceeded nearly in the
following strain,«-whilst Miss Morrison sat
grandly» and knowing that she made a superb
picture whilst so sitting, at a distance, so as not
to seem to be one of the party, yet carefully col-
lecting and treasuring up every word that fell
from either lady— -
" Well, Ann dear,** said Miss Scrivener,
bridling up, ** sympathies are bom in heaven, to
be made use of on earthy and, as my Molly
says — •
** Her Molly T' said Miss Morrison, from
her retreat, in a subdued yet distinct voice,
whilst she remained apparently inanimate as a
statue.
^Yes, madam, my Molly — my femme de
chawib^ madam, what papa has allowed me all
to myself these two years, wages no object, Ann
dear ; — ^but what was I saying ?**
<< That sympathies were too often bom in
heaven but to perish on earth.'*
** Did I say just so ? but that's not exactly
what I mean ; — ^as Molly says, Idssing goes by
favour^ and intelligent minds, therefore, have
JACK A8HOEK. 148
highly discriminating facoltieB. You lee that,
Ann dear?*
" Not exactly."*
There now," said the lady, pouting;
whenever I talk my best, people won't
understand me ; and when I talk Tulgar, they
laugh at me. All I know is this — I mean to
say that the course of true love never does run
smooth ; and that's no quotation, I'm sure for
I would not have you think, Ann dear, that I am
so unfashionable as to deal in such silly
inventions.*'
«< Well, what is a quotation ?^
** As if I didn't know ! But I am always
vexed when people ask questions.** And then she
thrust her little foot forward pettishly, display-
ing a very finely-turned ankle, that would have
ensured a fortune upon the stage. *' For what
are questions, Ann dear^ but indications of
curiosity, or of the want of information, too
often unsatisfactory to answer, and puzzling
when answered.**
'* Puzxling to answer, and unsatisfactory
when answered 1"
144 JACK ASHORE.
<* Well, well, don^t take one up so — it's all
one, isnH it? Ask me no questions, and Til
tell you no stories. But what will you do, now
Sir Edward is ruined ?''
At this abrupt interrogatory, Miss Morrison,
to use an expression that would have been per-
fectly intelligible to Miss Scrivener, ** pricked
up her ears,*^ but did it in a perfectly graceful
and lady-like manner ; whilst Miss Truepenny,
despite of her habitual self-command, for a
moment turned absolutely pale, whilst she thus
replied : ^' Questions ! indeed, Miss Scrivener,
you ask me a tremendous one ; but I am happy
that I have no occasion to answer it ; for ruined
I believe him not to be*^
<^ But he is though, for it has been in the
papers these three weeks.**
*« God forbid r
^* But it's too late,^ said Miss Scrivener, with
childish irritability. ^* And papa says it's all
true, and parental authority must always be
sacred to filial contumeliosity. I have been
taught my duty, to honour my father and my
mother, and all that — which you will find in the
JACK A8HOEE. 145
catechism, and when papa says that Sir Edward
Fortintower is a titled beggar, I am too good a
Christiao not to believe it/'
^ And wish it P*^ said Miss Morrison from
her retreat
^* Oh lud no ! Now I say, God forbid I
Why, I love the tip of his little finger better —
hum ; — I mean, that, in confiding hearts, a reci-
procity of affection circumstances may blight,
but time cannot — ^lit — litter — litigate— no, that's
papa's word — Ann, dear, what is it that time
cannot do when circumstances may blight P^
** Indeed I do not know, unless you mean
obliterate."
** Well, and that is the word after all I I
am sure I ought to know it ; for it is one upon
which my master of elocution insists a great
deal."
^* Her master of elocution l^ echoed the dig^
nified and matured beauty who was still ad-
dressed as Miss Morrison.
•* And why not ?"*' replied Miss Scrivener,
lowering her voice. " Your friend, or your
governess — ^*
VOL. I. H
146 JACK ASHOBE.
^^ My friendy Miss Scrivener," said Miss
Truepenny.
*• Well, then, your friend ices me all over with
her stately look and maid-of-honour curtseys. I
cannot come and have a little comfortable confab
over the ruin of your sweetheart and mine — **
** Yours — ^yours ! Miss Scrivener, did you
say yours?**
*^ To be sure I did, and why not? Sir Edward
came a courting to me, long before the grand
match that is to bring into life again the Fortin*
tower peerage, and which will never take place,
was ever thought of."
'^ Sir Edward Fortintower came a courting to
you ?•'
*^ Yes, miss ; but perhaps the words are not
fashionable enough. He paid me those delicate
attentions which are not so decided as they
ought to be, nor yet so vague as not to be
imderstood. Father said he had gone so far
that it was shabby in him to back out.**
" Pray, Miss Scrivener, may I beg of you to
tell me how far he did go ? — not, of course, if
it should give you any pain."
JACK ASHOEK. 147
** Oh, he went very far indeed ; and as to the
pain, why the mind that cannot endure afflic-
tion, and smile at agony for a Iiieloved object, is
— ^is — but we two understand all that ; but Sir
Edward went very far indeed — so far that I am
ashamed to tell you — so far as to take innocent
liberties with me — ^there now T
At this point of the conversation there was
a noise of the rustling of much silk ; it was
merely Miss Morrison drawing herself up to a
proper and dignified height
^^ This is extremely wonderful. Miss Scri-
vener ; I hardly know what to say to you, or to
understand how any gentleman can take any
liberties with an unmarried lady, and they
should be pronounced to be innocent/'
** I have several good long sentences about
that, which would prove your ignorance, Ann
dear ; and there is one in particular beginning,
* The kiss that is consecrated by a virtuous
affection comes like the blest dews of heaven f
but, ah ! I forget the rest ; — ^but it never came
to kissing between Sir Edward and me/ "
*^ That I could have almost answered for,"
h2
148 JACK A8H0R£«
said Miss Truepenny, brightening up, and
looking radiant through her air of assumed
indifference.
** Not so fast, not so fast, miss, as the old
woman siud to the pigs ; I mean, begging your
pardon, that to anticipate in conversation i
neither safe to oneself, nor polite to the speaker."
^^ I am corrected, Miss Scrivener. Pray taKe
your own time, and proceed.'^
^' Though it never came to kissing, it was
much worse than that, and not half, or a quar-
ter, or half a quarter so pleasant. What do
you think, Ann dear ?"' And at length venturing
a look at the stately Miss Morrison — *' What do
you think, madam P — ^he actually chucked me
under the chin — there now — there!"
'* That was a very great liberty indeed."
** But what followed was much worse* Papa
did not think so much of chucking under the
chin as I did, but he valued the words more ;
he said they would have weight in a court of
justice — verba scripta — that is, words spoken,
Miss Truepenny, as distinguished from words
written. After he chucked me under the chin, he
JACK ASHORE. 149
called me a pretty dmpletoD — words of endear-
ment, as papa says, and certainly implying
intentions from which no honourable man ought
to swerve."
" It was wrong on the part of Sir Edward.^'
At this ill-considered remark, the spoilt
beauty became very angry, and was continuing
to insist, in a very impassioned strain, and much
to the discomposure of Miss Morrison, that there
was no wrong in it,-~when the subject of dis-
pute was announced, and immediately after-
wards made his appearance.
150 JACK ASHORE.
CHAPTER X.
Interruptions — A lon^ leuon on magnanimity— A race be-
tween worldlj interest and high principle ; for once high
principle wins ; upon which ensue high resolres, and, sin-
gularly enough, they are acted up to— Such things some-
times happen in noyels.
Haj) Sir Edward gloried in causing a sensation
by his sudden entrance, he would have been
highly gratified. In the first place, Miss
Morrison put by her frivolous occupation of
stringing glass beads, and opened a respectably
sized volume, that by its appearance no one
could possibly take for a novel, and was soon
intensely occupied in taking notes. The affi-
anced lady received him with an ill-acted
equanimity, and the lady who wished, him her
affianced did not affect equanimity at all.
JACK ASHOBE. 151
Poor Miss Scrivener blushed and laughed, and
almost cried, and all at the wrong times, and
talked incessantly, so that it was scarcely pos-
sihle for the lovers to interchange a word*
She was most bountiful in the figure of speech
inuendo, and gave by its latitude all present
fully to understand that she would take Sir
Edward without a farthing, and that she was
not very much grieved that she had the oppor-
tunity of thus proving the disinterestedness of
her attachment
Notwithstanding her agitation, she had suffi-
dent sense to perceive that her presence threw
a restraint on all parties present ; so^ requesting
her carriage might draw up, she departed with
so much confusion of manner, that she trod
upon Miss Morrison^s spaniel, overturned a
small or-molu table of follies, and finally made
her exit with a boisterous laugh, in order that
she might cry alone in her carriage as if her
little heart were breaking.
After the servants had restored order, and
Miss Morrison had soothed the yelping spaniel
into silent suUenness, she wrote on a slip of
152 JACK ASHORE.
paper, *^ We cut Miss Scrivener,'* and folding
it up» she handed it with a sagared smile to
Miss Truepenny. She then appeared to re>
«unie her studies ; thus leaving the two lovers
to a tite^tite, of which they hardly knew how
to avail themselves.
However, Sir Edward soon felt much of that
composure which at first he only affected.
There is something soothing to our self-love
to boast of our misfortunes, and to be eloquent
upon our own miseries, when we have no
great fault with which to reproach ourselves
^-and even when we have. First with a falter-
ing, then with a firm voice, he recounted aU the
numerous probabilities that were arrayed against
him — ^made his tortured listener fully under-
stand the nature of the will, and the affinity of
the new claimant to both of them.
Poor Ann Truepenny, turning her face studi-
ously from Miss Morrison during this narration,
wept quietly, yet unceasingly and bitterly.
Three times did her chaperone rise and offer her
arm to lead her away, and so many times did
Ann refuse the assistance with a petulance of
JACK A8HOEE.
manner neyer before observed in her. But yet
she spoke not, nor took the handkerchief from
her face that concealed her emotion ; but
eirery time that Sir Edward asked her if he
should proceed, she gently bowed to him an
When he had told all — ^and we must do bim
the credit to say he tdd it quietly and without
exaggeration, yet with that decent concern that
evinced how bitterly he felt the blow — there
ensued a long and a distressing pause. As yet
Ann Truepenny had not spoken — her agitation
was too great for words. Still partially con-
cealing her countenance, she wrote on the back
of a card a request to Miss Morrison that
she and her lover might be left to themselves.
The lady's answer was conveyed in writing
also, and was to this effect : — '^ Rally yourself,
my dear, and take care you do not commit
yourself, or make any promise. Until you
have heard from your grandfather, you must
cut Sir Edward also. Make the interview as
short as possible**
The lovers are alone. The lady is still
h5
154 JACK ASKOBB.
weeping, and her face is Btill veiled from hi&
In this state of silence and suspense, innumerable
are the cruel fancies that torture his bosom.
Weeps she for him, or for herself? He no
longer dares claim her as his bride, yet it
would be agony to him should she resign him.
Perhaps even now she has come to the stinging
resolve. Does she weep for the lost peerage ? Are
hers the tears of defeated ambition ? And then
he is insensibly led into that speculation so cruel
and common to the miserable, '* What is man ?^
How can he be separated from his adjuncts?
Are not his advantages, though acquired by
accident, as much a part of him as his temper,
or the members of his body ? Then comes
over him the painful consciousness of a changed
identity. He feels that he is no longer the
gay, the gallant, the rich, the courted Sir Ed-
ward For tin tower, the meet bridegroom of the
heiress of the accumulated wealth of genera-
tions. He feels all this acutely, and humbles
himself almost to baseness.
She, the idol of his heart, weeps on. At last he
grows desperate, and whilst a tear that he deems
JACK ASHOBB. 185
onmanly qaivers in his eyes, and his h*ps trem-
ble with emotion, he falters forth, *^ Dear Ann
— Ann — Miss Truepenny— speak to me.^
Thrice she makes an effort to speak, but it
only makes her sobbing the more convulsive ;
and then she stretches forth her left hand, the
right still concealing her countenance with the
handkerchief now completely saturated with
her tears, and points to Miss Morrison's card
upon the tablet
He manfully resists the impulse to seize the
outstretched hand, and act the lover upon it ;
but he remembers that her next word may
disunite them for ever, and instead of the fair
and jewelled hand that lies so invitingly before
him, he takes hold only of the card bearing
the stem injunction that he must be ctU*
^ It is just, it is most just,*" said Sir Edward
mournfully ; ** and yet, Ann, I would not so
part with you ; but to what end should I ask
you for speech — ^for words of pity, of con«
dolence, of tenderness? God of mercy! to
what end ? I thank you for these tears. But
let me not leave you unseen — ^give me but
156 JACK ASHORE*
one look at parting, and I will bear my anguish
as I may.**
She pronounced the word *^ Edward I" and
slowly uncovered her face; and then turned
upon him a smile so tender, so heavenly, so ex-
pressive of all love, all constancy, and all trust-
ingness, that he was firmly transfixed with
astonishment, and exclaimed, clasping his hands
upon his bosom, ** How beautiful ! my God,
how very, very beautiful V*
So great is the triumph of expression — of
that deep and pure feeling of love that springs
from one soul, and appeals confidently to
another. But she had not wept with impu-
nity ; yet her smile of love had redeemed, had
improved, had embellished her countenance, in
spite of the traces of her tears, into something
that we conceive of the beauty of the im-
mortals.
^^ Now,'' said he, passionately, ^^ I will speak,
and be no more silenced. I considered your
tears as peace-ofierings to my wounded vanity
— to my crushed heart, — as so many hymns
and flowers that accompany the victim to de-
JACK ASHOEE. 167
struction ; I now hold them as nobler pledges^
pledges of a love as pure and as unalterable as
my own. Do I speak rightly, truly, my be-
loved Ann ?^
For all answer, the smile grew, if possible,
more intense. Edward was carried away by
his rapture, not only from himself, but from his
high principle, for he continued thus — ^* I will
not lose you — by heavens, I will not! The
widies of your ancestors shall be completed.
You shall shine the most beautiful among the
beautiful peeresses of the realm — ^you shall
outshine all in the display of a magnificence
that is worthy only of you. If to build tem-
ples to your honour, if to consecrate groves to
your beauty, will make you happier, it shall be
done — and what may not our united wealth
perform ? Do you think that I will resign all
this triumph, all this glory, to some mean, un-
educated, base, upstart pretender ? I will liti-
gate his claim whilst there is a fraction of law
to be purchased. No^ no, I cannot resign so
much perfection — so much happiness; I will
employ the most skilful counsel — the most wily
158 JACK ASHORE.
attorneys. A dastard and a reptile should I
be to permit My God ! what have I said ?
what have I done? Why are you thus break-
ing your heart and mine? This passion of
grief will kill you. Let me look again upon
your beautiful countenance — again be animated,
reassured with your beautiful smile. Judge
me not harshly."
" I dare not judge you at all."
** If you say so^ you have judged me, and
found me wanting.''
^* But a little while ago, and it would have
given me the greatest pain to have released
you from your engagement ; and had you re^
mained firm, nothing on earth would have
shaken my fidelity to you. I wept for you,
and not for myself. You are, and I have not
blamed you for it, something too much attached
to the glorious circumstances of station and
wealth. I wept at the misery that the loss of
them must cause you ; and when you told me
that they were all lost, I had already deter-
mined to indemnify you by giving you myself
and all my wealth ; and when you heroically
JACK A8UOKB. 159
made known your determination to abandon
your claim if one more rightful was advanced
against you, I gloried in my resolve. Edward^
if you litigate this question against the right,
and against your own conscience, — I say not to
you that I cast you from me — I am still your
bride, and as such may I be strengthened to
alleviate in your bosom the inevitable and
almost intolerable sense of guiltiness that must
be your lot, — ^but of how much felicity will you
deprive me ! My misery and my happiness
are before you. I said I dared not judge you
— I dared not — judge for yourself. How in-
expressibly blessed should I be to meet you at
the altar as the impoverished Sir Edward For-
tintower ! but as the dishonoured withholder of
the wealth of another, could you meet me ?"
" I could not.''
^ That was nobly said. Go, and at once.
Do rightly. Remember there is one that de-
mands your care — perhaps deserves your affec-
tion."
•* Who, who, my beloved — who ?"
" Your newly-discovered relative. Guard
160 JACK ASHORE.
him from the sharpers that will surround him —
let hinl not be the easy prey of the spoiler.
Assure yourself of his right, and be then, in all
things. Sir Edward Fortintower — ^be my Ed-
ward."
** I will, by heavens ! What a villain I had
almost been T'
It is unnecessary, after this, to record how
the lovers parted.
JACK ASHOKB. 161
CHAPTER XI.
Ob boird the Glory ■gitn — ^Tbe marine ofBcer't jwn^Ainia-
ble interrnptionflp— The akipper plejs ezpontor — How to
go in chaae of joor nose, and to recover it— An ezeellent
and pleasant moral maj be extracted from a reij bad and
an unpleasant dream.
'* Now for your story," said Captain Firebrass,
with all that pawky amiability of look that cha>
racteriaes a mastiff which is expecting a bone.
This was addressed to Captain Curtois of the
royal marines, a gentleman most eminent for
the figure of speech known by the name of
** amplification." Happy and thrice happy
were the captain's guests when the amphibious
warrior commenced his prolonged tale of won-
der. The host could not, from his sense of po-
liteness, sleep, and the story would not finish.
162 JACK ASHORE.
therefore the wine was necessarily expedited in
its revolutions, in order to drive away the in-
sidious approaches of slumber. Thus, his
narrations never failed to produce excitement ;
and however stale was his story, before it was
finished his listeners always became fresh.
The power of producing sleep by either an
oral narrator or wordy author, is a gift that
has been too much and too unjustly derided.
Narcotics are among the most valuable of our
medicines, and the drug that operates at once
upon the mind, without nauseating the taste, or
by its deleterious nature injuring the coats of
the stomach, cannot be too highly extolled. .
There is much art needful to send a reader
judiciously to sleep. We think that ^^ naval
novels,^ as they are called^ excel in this quality,
and we have the vanity to believe that our own
are not deficient in it. All that we can say
is, that we have done our best, and that we,
unlike those other physicians who work by
draughts and pills, have not the least objection
to our own medicines. Whenever we feel rest>
less, we immediately have recourse to those
JACK ABHOBE. l63
best of opiatesy our own productions ; and they
never fail in their operations. Can many
M.D.*8 or fashionable authors say so much?
We opine not.
We were nearly asleep ourselves, as we
penned this digression — ^not from the dull na*
ture of the digression itself, but from our
memory reverting to the long, dull story by
which the marine captain extorted from the
naval captain a double allowance of wine for
himself and brother guests. At length he got
so intolerably- prosy, that the not unwilling
hand was scarcely able to convey to the very
willing lips the rapidly circulating glass ; it
became a matter of the nicest speculation whe-
ther the listeners would be asleep or drunk
first, when Captain Firebrass^ no longer able
to bear this tantalisation, exclaimed, '< By all
the nightmares that Old Nick ever laid upon
indigestion. Captain Curtds, are you going to
send us to sleep for an eternity? Sing it, man,
sing it to a lively tune — the more Irish the
better ; and that, with brandy in our claret,
may help us to see an end of this yam.*
164 JACK ASHORE.
Nothing daunted by this apostrophe of Cap-
tain Firebrass, the marine officer, draining his
bumper, thus continued :
** Don't be annoyed, gentlemen, don^t be an-
noyed — I am going to sleep myself. As I
before told you, the day had been extremely
sultry ; we had all been excessively wearied, and
the wild hog and the guanna, upon which we
had made our evening^s and our only repast,
had been but very indifferently broiled. The
water which we could procure in these leafy
solitudes — ^in these umbrageous wilds — ^in this
primeval forest — ''
<* Holloa, there I vast heaving ! what ship ?
Never heard o^ these afore," said the straight-
forward master.
** A little poetical or so,* said Captain Fire-
brass, kindly and patronisingly. '* Our good
friend amplifies. Marine officers read novels,
and they pick up in them vessels with strange
names, that were never launched from his ma-
jesty's dock-yardsi He only means that the
water was brackish in the jungle in the swamp."*
^^ My duty to you. Captain Firebrass,*^ said
JACK A8HOEE. 165
the master^ swigging off at a draught his
tumbler of half-and-half — (he had preferred
grog to the various wines) — " my service to
you, sir — I am much obliged to you. I under-
stand now.^
The skipper was very much flattered : it is
so pleasant to instruct, and to show ourselves
capable of instructing. He smiled graciously
upon the master, and, for the first time during
the story, nodded kindly to Captain Curtois,
and requested him to proceed, keeping a sharp
look-out for the oratorical flourishes of the nar-
rator, that he might perform the office of run-
ning illustrator.
** The water was not only saturated with
saline particles, but was also impregnated with
marsh miasmata.**
Here Captain Firebrass again whispered to
the master, who really seemed all abroad, and
fairly taken aback, *^ The water stunk, and was
brackish — nothing else, I assure you.**
Captain Firebrass was no longer sleepy, but
took a great interest in the story.
** Consequently, gentlemen," continued the
166 JACK ASHORE.
Story-teller, ^^ you must not be surprised that
we drank our grog strong — intensely strong,
Mr. Trestletree.''
Mr. Trestletree smacked his lips, and emptied
his tumbler.
^* Although it was composed only of that
deviPs distillation aquadente."
*' Beg pardon for coming athwart hause,*^
interrupted the master, *^ but I hasen'^t enough
gumption to diskiver it." And he illustrated
the speech by the act. " You mcike grog — I
appeals to Captain Firebrass — ^and grog com-
pases you — that is to say, when you've got
enough of it."
^* Ah !" said the purser, with a look of pro-
fundity, '^ this is a very nice question, and not
to be dismissed too hastily. Nautically speak-
ing, grog can neither be composed nor made — it
is mixed. Were I to tell my steward and the
petty oilicers to make their grog, it is a matter
of doubt whether they would not drink the
beverage when made — but when I say, mix the
grog, I speak nautically, perspicuously, and
conformably to the rules and regulations of his
JACK ASHOKE. 167
majesty's service; so pray, Captain Curtois,
proceed, and say, * Although it was mixed only
with that deviPs distillation aquadente.* ^
'^ Although it was mixed only with that
devil^s distillation aquadente, we took care that
the alcohol should predominate over the aqueous
fluid."
Captain Firebrass graciously interpreted.
He was never in a better humour in his life.
" The consequence of this feast of wild hog
half broiled, and green lizard half roasted, with
the thermometer above ninety, and grog that
contained no more water than was sufficient to
christen it, was, that all of us lay the founda-
tions of as complete an indigestion — ^
" As ever alderman suffered after a civic
feast,^ said Captain Firebrass, eagerly snatch-
ing up the thread of the story.
^ I beg your pardon. Captain Firebrass ; I
was not going to say anything like it. I was
going to say, an indigestion as complete as is
experienced by the topsail halyards' fly-block
with a man's arm jammed in it ; or as is suffered
163 JACK ASHORE.
by a poor fellow when be finds the best part of
his story taken out of his mouth.*^
Captain Firebrass began to look ferocious,
drank three glasses of claret in rapid suc-
cession, and finished, in pure absence of mind,
by tossing ofi* the master'^s new-filled tumbler
of half-and-half.
*^ Well, gentlemen, my Indian platt ham-
mock was suspended between two trees, and,
jumping into it with all my clothes on, I swang
like a lemon in a net, and prepared to go to
sleep. Gentlemen, I will not inflict upon you
anything in the shape of romance, nor waste
your time and mine in describing the awful
stillness of the forest, the picturesque appear-
ance of our Indians, or the brilliancy of the
stars that hung above me. Those stars I
should have been most happy to have regarded,
but the sand-flies and the musquitoes laboured
so laudably in their vocation, that I was obliged
to have my face entirely, though not closely,
covered up.
" Well, in this wild solitude I fell asleep — ^for
JACK ASHORK. 160
for deep I suppose I must call it : for,
for some time I was in that dreamy con-
idousDess of comfort and rest that is so de-
lightful. In time, howerer, I began to feel
restless, and to believe that all manner of
reptiles, with which the bay of Honduras
abounds, began to dimb over me and press me
down in my hammock. This did not very
much alarm me ; for I said to myself, I know I
am asleep, and I am only paying the penalty of
a very venial excess of broiled wild^^hog, half
roasted lizard, and fiery grog. Well, my tor-
mentors seemed to multiply, and grew more
troublesome and mischievous ; but I still con-
soled myself with the idea that I was fast
asleep. At length, one imp more audacious
than the rest squatted itself heavily on my
breast-bone, and thrusting its paw into a pouch
of its horrible skin, drew out a tobacco-box,
and taking a quid, after some of the most dia-
bolical grimaces that the imagination can con-
ceive in chewing it, the devilskin very com-
posedly squirted his filthy saliva into my face,
which saliva seemed to scorch me like molten
vou I. 1
170 JACK ASHORE.
lead. At fisrt I was angry, but endeavoured
again to console myself, by whispering, for I
could not speak up, ^ Never mind, it won't last
long — I am only asleep. This is nothing but
an attack of incubus.^ "
^ He means nothing but the nightmare,"
whispered Captain Firebrass, looking saga-
ciously around, and recovering his good humour.
«« * You lie !' said my friend on my chest,
^ you are not asleep, but you ought to be.
Here, Cacofogo— here, Demodonderpate — rock
the gentleman to sleep !' Upon this, two of
the ugliest and wickedest looking of baboons
commenced see-sawing me in my hammock, the
monster on my breast all the time enjoying the
ride amazingly. The motion began to make
me sick, and I again attempted to plunge,
" * Be quiet, drat thee — wilt thee ?' said the
hypergriiBn upon me, tweaking me by the nose
in order to make me lie still — when, to my
horror, my nasal ornament came off in his
fingers ! ^ Well,^ said the malicious imp, ^ this
comes of handling marine oiBcers' noses. Curse
them, they are always rotten ! ^
JACK A8HOBK. 171
'" If I Stand this,' said I, ' my name is not
Captain Joshua Curtois. Give me my nose,
you yagabcHid.*
« * See you d-^-d first !'
** Well, up I sprang, and away went the
demon, right aloft into the tree. I seized hold
of the bough to which the head of my ham*
mock was suspended, and, making but one
bound on it, gave chase for my nose. It was a
great stake, and I made such exertions, and
displayed an activity so superhuman, that all
who saw me were electrified. I soon got near
my pursuit, which then, to avoid my just anger,
bad changed itself into the likeness of the boat-
swain, who then appeared to be fast asleep in a
fork of the tree, with his left arm lashed round
one of the branches with his handkerchief, to
prevent him from falling. But I was not to be
deceived by the metamorphose." (Here the
skipper explained.) ** ' My nose, scoundrel
thief, my nose !' I roared, hitting the demon
an orthodox punch in the face.
** * What have I got to do with your nose,
and be cursed to you ?' said the sprite.
I 2
-^ • I mm- ^mn rA k ia yoor jacket pcxket,'
"^muaiBC k •ran — ^cc hack to mj hammock in
ft r-i». Msai v3a I J^vi hj down I fitted on
i my ease, and with
and then fdl asleep,
the san was Tery hot,
tiiea I Cnrnd the first
taf c^ s&ip^ wIk» was in command of
caie w^> od tke boatswain aloi^side of me,
Qt* Iiir»r« wick a faitier complaint of my having,
3z cne a^:kc. c&abed ap, quite drunk, to his
rcMst^ ^ri^undr amau hed him, and robbed him
of a ball of spiinTaim. This I irehemently de-
a^ed» and swore diat I bad never moved from
BKT kamanck, and bad slept soundly all night.
How^rrer, mv aMnnishmc nt became extreme
when I found my five in ckne contact with the
k)K»t ball of spunyam^ and all besmeared with tar;
nd I was still mote bewildered when several
of the seamen deposed to my pranks in the tree;^
and it was not until some hours after that my
detestable dream recurred to me by slow degrees.
*' You look incredulous, gentlemen ; but what
JACK ASHORE. 173
I have told you is, I asmiK you, true; and yet,
Captain Firebrass, I do not believe that I was
80 drunk as poor John Truepenny, whom you
have determined to flog*"
^ How do you account for your insane be-
haviour. Captain Curtois?" said Firebrass,
rather too moodily for the hopes of mercy that
the narrator had entertained.
"Merely an attack of incubus, terminated
by an access of somnambulation, brought on by
intemperance and indigestion.^
Captain Firebrass graciously explained, and
the act brought him to the confines of good
humour. Coffee was ordered, and as the officers
were about to retire, he said, not very ill-
temperedly, ** Captain Curt<ns, I shall think a
little of your rigmarole story, and see what I
can extract from it to benefit this fellow True-
penny."
So far was well, but the impervious ignorance
of the master spoiled alL To flatter well is not
the task of a fooL
" I b^ your pardon,^* said this officer, '* but
174 JACK ASHORE.
sir, I could not go without thanking you, sir,
for your kindness, Captain Firebrass. Out of
seamanship, sir, I am not very book-learned ;
but a seaman^s duty ashore and afloat — ^but
that is neither here nor there — ^all I mean to
say is, that if it hadnH a been for you, Captun
Firebrass, the story would have been like a
foul hause to me — ^neither beginning, middle,
nor end, and all mixed up together like. With-
out you. Captain Firebrass, the yam would
have been good for nothing— as it was, you
were the flower, and the fruit of the story
too.''
*' Nof no!*' said Firebrass, in the best of
humour ; ** no, no, you are too flattering — I
am only a commentator."
*< There now,'* said the master, uplifting his
hands, turning to his brother oflicers, and ex-
claiming in an aside that might be heard
alongside — ^^ That's what I calls true modesty !
Captain Firebrass says he's only a common
tatur. Well, well, I'll never stand that —
common tatur indeed ! I'll always stick up for
it, that he is a kidney at least.**
JACK A8HOBB. 175
The guests got out of the cabin as well as
they could, the skipper looking thunder-clouds.
He resoWed to flog John Truepenny the next
day.
176
JACK ASHORE.
CHAPTER XII.
The laws of gallantry as respects oar gallant tars — ^The bam*
boat woman and her daughter, and love in a bam-boat-*A
lower-deck romance—Jack in trouble with two comforter^—*
A touch of the heroic rerj rulgarly touched upon— Speci-
mens of nautical orations, in which delicacy is a little
sacri6ced to vigour — All hands turned up to see the sea
captain turn orer the leaves of the articles of war.
The scene must still be laid on board of the
Old Glory, though there is little that is glorious
to behold in it. Just before nooiv, the hands
were turned up for punishment. Silently and
sorrowfully, though not slowly, the men con-
gregated on the main-deck. They are not per-
mitted to move slowly even to witness the tor-
ture of a shipmate, messmate, or perhaps
JACK ABHORS 177
brother. We said are not— it may now be
changed, and we hope it is. But, at that time,
the boatswain with his cane^ and his mates with
their coalts, had a very summary method of
expediting the morements of the crews of his
majesty's ships. We know that they generally
exercised this power with humanity, and the
seamen, knowing that this power could, and if
occasion required it, would be exercised, were
correspondingly alert.
The bluejackets clustered eagerly and anx*
iously towards where the gratings were rigged,
for poor Jack was a prime and an especial
favourite with every man among them. We
have stated that he had been some few times
flogged before, and that, nautically speaking,
he had deserved it. But we must state, in jus-
tice to Jack, that he had never been punished
for crimen or for neglect of duty, but only for
those offences that arise from intemperance.
He had always received the lash with Spartan
fortitude, subduing all expression of feeling,
even to the quivering of his muscles. The
amateurs in this sort of punishment — we do not
I 5
178 JACK ASHORE.
mean the recipients, but the inflicters and the
privileged witnesses of it — ^looked upon this
display as a high treat ; and Jack's own equals
and his subordinates — ^for, being a petty oiBcer,
he had his subordinates — were eager to witness
this torture, as they regarded his unflinch-
ing conduct as a sort of triumph over the
cruelty that ordered it ; and they admired it
the more, because it displayed a heroism of
which so few of them could boast.
But there was another cause that made the
excitement of this intended punishment the
more intense — a cause not quite so honourable
to Jack as we could wish. It was rumoured
that, for the first time in his life, he had shown a
little want of game, and it was feared that when
tied up he would show this want still more.
There was some foundation for this. The
poor fellow^s spirits had begun to give way.
He had now been in irons nearly three days,
with his grog stopped. T]ie excitement of
his deep and prolonged drunkenness on pay-
day had left him ill, with his whole system
relaxed. He also, for the first time, felt that
JACK A8H0BK. 179
he was used unjustly ; for be never could bring
himself to acknowledge that he had been a
willing assistant at the spoliation of the ship's
6gure-head«
However, against all this he might, and per-
haps would, have borne up manfuUj ; but there
was a woman in the case — nay, more — start not
fair and gentle reader — there were two !
Polygamy in concubinage is not permitted
on board of his majesty's vessels of war. The
temporary liaisons of the sex with the tars is
managed with all manner of decorum, and
fidelity is the order of the day. If the affec-
tions of either party ^ould wander, (and igare-
mens de coeur are but rare,) divorce is easily
attainable, with but little loss of time^ and with
no expense.
It is not quite fair to John Truepenny to
speak of his loves at the very time whta he is
going to be flogged ; but we -can't help it ; —
besides, we wish to put the ceremony off as long
as we can.
We need not again describe Jack's appeari-
saxce; if the reader be a lady, and she have
180 JACK A8H0AE.
forgotten it, she does not deserve to have so
superb an image of mortality again offered to
her mind^s eye. All that we shall say in the
way of repetition is, that Truepenny could be
loved solely for himself; and with tongue^
and deed, and fists, would Mary Macannister
affirm it.
Mary was formerly pretty Poll of the Point,
but now she was Jack's Poll, and nobody else^s.
Poll was a grand specimen of female beauty.
She was a Juno in figure and stature. With a
profusion of dark-chesnut hair, deep-blue eyes,
and an exquisite complexion, she wanted only
education and refinement to have taken the lead
of any woman in Hampshire. Though so
strong, and formed upon so grand a scale, her
skin was so peculiarly soft, white, and delicate,
that no one felt inclined to pronounce her coarse.
Except when her countenance was inflamed
with passion, or flushed with gin, it was of a
fascinating sweetness. So clear, and joyous, and
innocent, was its expression, that when you re-
garded her features only, you would fancy, for a
moment, that you were looking upon the face
of a mere child.
JACK ASHORE. 181
So great were Poirs natural attractions, that
▼ery many officers, and some of them of high
rank, made the attempt to turn her into a lady,
and appropriate her to themselves. All these
endeavours failed. Without being more, or
even so vicious as her sisterhood, she had an
unconquerable passion for low life. The plei^
sures of good society were too tame for her ;
the rules of decorum, and the formalities of a
refined civilisation, were so many shackles
upon her spirit. She loved noise, riot, and
coarse excitement — ^red ribbons, and the saiIor*s
hornpipe — three fiddlers in a coach — and was not
averse to a little amiable blackguarding with
another lady ; and if finished by a little fisty-
cuffing, the thing was not only more natural,
but quite as agreeable. She was the only
woman upon whom a black eye ever sat grace-
fuUy.
Such was Jack^s Poll. Jack's Sue was
altogether another being. She was a slight,
sickly^looking girl of seventeen. She had fallen
in love with Jack, and if ever poor thing was
devoted to man, it was Susan Snowdrop. She
Ib2 JACK ASHOBE.
was the only daughter of a bumboat woman,
who was reputed to be exceedingly rich ; nor
was the reputation a false one. She had edu-
cated Susan at a boarding-school in Chichester,
the very best that the place aflfbrded.
When Susan was about sixteen, her mother,
not quite approving of her delicate, though
then perfectly healthy appearance, and remark-
ing that the sea air had always kept herself in
robust health, made her over-educated daughter
— over-educated, we mean, for the occupation
— accompany her in her trips to the men-of-
war, and assist in the multifarious business
of bumming.
On one of these occasions she had over-
reached herself — tlie daughter we mean— and
fell out of the bumboat The tide began
making very free with her, and was taking her
a little involuntary excursion to St Helens,
when John Truepenny kicked off his shoes,
flung off his jacket, and kept her afloat until
they were both picked up.
At first, Mrs. Snowdrop appeared to l^e
grateful for the service ; but when sKe found
JACK ASHORE. 183
Susan so utterly lost to all sense of proper
dignity as to be enamoured of a common sailor,
she treated the poor fragile being with a harsh*
ness and a cruelty perfectly unnatural. Then
began the romance of the story. In high life*
or by a fashionable author, poor Sue's devotion
would hare been not only heroic, but sublime.
She began to write to Jack, who, not being very
able to understand what she meant, read her
letters to his Poll, who could not read at alL
This gorgeous lady, who lored Jack sincerely,
was at first very jealous. But this soon ceased,
as Susan's fine phrases spoke of a virtuous de-
votion, disclaimed all sensual love, and at
length made the cant of her platonism suffi-
ciently intelligible — or at least Poll thought so—
to make her believe her to be a fool, and that
she had nothing to fear from her rivalry.
In the mean time Susan's situation hourly
grew worse. Her hard mother had recourse to
stripes and the cellar. The persecuted being
then resolved to do what had often been before
done — to assume the garb of a sailor, leave her
maternal home for ever, and enter on board of
184 JACK ASUOBE*
the same diip as Jack served in. This was
duly communicated to John, and he and Poll
took counsel over it To assist them in their
deliberations, they called in one Giles Grimm,
commonly called Grim Giles, from his age and
exceeding ugliness. Grim was the oldest
quartermaster in the ship, and had been a sort
of dry nurse to Jack, receiving him into his
mess and under his protection, when he came
on board a little boy from the Marine Society.
Luckily Jack and his protector had always
been united in the various drafts that had
transported them from ship to ship. It was at
once decided that Miss Snowdrop was too de-
licate to assume the character of a sailor-boy.
The resolution that the trio came to was sin-
gular, and the following were its results.
Poll went on shore, and contrived to get Miss
Snowdrop away from her mother. She then
took her to her lodgings, and swore the poor
heart-broken child over the Bible and a broken
ring, with many other ceremonies, that she
would never be anything more to her Jack
than what she had asked for in her letters — to
JACK A8H0BK. 180
be his aervanly and only to live near him and
look at him. ' Polly, not being able to read,
bad taken her expressions literally. Had she
but read a few romances, she would have been
more enlightened.
They then, the next day, got into a wherry
with many other girls, and came alongside the
Glory* Thereupon old Giles Grim went aft
to the first lieutenant, and asked leave to take
his girl on board. Every one who heard the
request burst out laughing ; but, as it was per-
fectly en T^lej no objection was made, and
Giles went down into the boat and brought up
a small lady, who trembled excessively, and
whose face was closely concealed in a black
veiL Grim Giles behaved like a father to her,
and gave up to her entirely his own ham-
mock.
Poll took very good care of two things; first,
that nothing improper should take place be-
tween the love-sick girl and her Jack ; and, in
the second, that Sue should, as she requested,
serve Jack. She made Miss Snowdrop do all the
186 JACK ASHORE
labour of the mess, and played the protectress
and fine lady with very becoming airs.
The story soon got wind ; every one won«
dered, and no one on board uttered a single
suspicion concerning Miss Snowdrop's reputa-
tion. It was not so on shore. Mrs. Snowdrop
was very violent on the occasion. She said,
very feelingly, ** That she should not have been
either vexed or surprised that her Sue should
have turned out a loose hussey, like her mo-
ther before her;" (she was a candid woman
that Mrs. Snowdrop ;) ^< but what cut her to
the heart was, her daughter taking up with a
beggarly, tarry-breeched, common sailor : her
girl, with the fortin she might have had, and
the edication she had given her ! As to the
fortin, that should go to the charity schools.
Now, if Sue had companioned with an admiral,
or even a post^captain, she would have thrown
in a thousand or two to have set her going in
style ; but now she might be d d, and die
under ditch water, for she should never touch
a bad penny of her money .^
JACK A8H0BB. 187
Now all this was known in the fleet, and
many were the honourable oflers made to Susan
by various officers. She was, however, true to
her romance. This little affair had proceeded
about three weeks, and had been not unpleasant
to all parties. Miss Susan, with all her devo-
tion to Jack, found the interest that she excited
a very pleasant adulation ; and Poll and Jack,
and their messmates, had a glorious time of it;
for what with Susan's money, and various pre»
sents that flowed in from all quarters, they all
lived, to use a seaman^s expression, like so many
fighting cocks.
The first shock that Miss Snowdrop received,
and the first doubts as to Jack's superiority to
all living, were on his getting so beastly drunk
on pay-day. But this had not in the least
diminished her love. She only reproached hei^
self for not having taken better care of him.
But she had been actually scared away and
stupified by the horror of the drunken crew,
and had concealed herself, as well as she could,
from all observation.
188 JACK ASHORE.
Now, on the morning appointed for John
Truepenny's punishment, seated between these
two loves, his legs in the bilboes, he had occa-
sion for more than a Job's patience.
Poll had a bottle of something comfortable
under her dress, and was watching an opportu*
nity to elude the vigilance of the sentry, in
order to pour it down Jack'^s throat. In the
mean time her tongue was not idle — ^not it She
was violently exhorting him to take his stripes
like a man— to remember his former character,
to smile if he could, and show the rascal of a
skipper how little he cared for him.
^^ Come, Jack, don'^t be spooney, and be
d d to you — ^look alive, man — ^it's nothing
but a flea-bite ! Why, there was Tom Tough,
the little foretopman, a man as I consarted with
for nine months on a stretch. * Tom,' says I,
^ you little varmint, if you don^t take this here
fly-flapping — ^it was only six dozen. Jack — ^like
a die-hard, blowed if I don't pull round the
buoy, and take up with Jemmy.' ' Well,' says
he, * sooner than that Pd take double.^ ^ Would
JACK A8HOB£. 180
you ?' 6aj8 I, *' then you are heart of oak to
the back^bone.' And aura enough he did*—
never quivered the whole seventy- two lashes ;
and when be had taken 'em all* as quietly as
the baby at the breast takes the milk, he ups
and asks tbe skipper for another dozen«~all to
prove his love to his Poll. What d'ye think of
that. Jack ? * Well,' says the skipper, says he,
when he comes to know the right of it — * well,'
says he, * Thomas TougV — he always give his
men their full allowance of name, he did-*** the
next time you're here — and it won't be long
first^ril take off a round dozen for that same i*
and so says Tom, * Your honour, I'm sorry as
how I didn'*t ax ye for six dozen.' That^s Vihat
I calls pluck. Why, Jack, what's come over
ye?"
^'- I don't desarve this, PoU,^ said Jack,
moodily ; '* and besides, I didn't use much to
mind it as a lad ; but, as a man, I think, to be
stripped in that manner, before all hands, ain't
becoming and natral C* and he looked queerly,
almost as if he had a mind to cry, at Sue, who
was weeping over one of his hands that she
190 JACK A8H0BX.
held closely pressed to her lips. Both of his
ladies were sitting on the deck, each on one side
of him ; for the bilboes or irons on board of a
man-of-war are manacles for the legs that slip
up and down a long bar of iron, and can only
be worn sitting, or lying at full length.
In the short time that Susan Snowdrop had
been on board, she had improved in looks won-
derfully: the excitement of her strange and
romantic situation had been of infinite service
to her health, both of mind and body. Gra-
dually, a respect for her, almost amounting to
reverence, had grown upon John Truepenny ;
and, though he knew it not himself, his principal
torture was the disgraceful light in which he
conceived he must appear in her sight. He
could not say with Macheath —
" How bappy oould I be with either.
Were t'other dear charmer away ;*'
for just then he was truly miserable with both,
and could bear the company of neither.
At length, and after Polly had completely
JACK ASHORE. 191
exhausted herself by loud and excessive talk-
ing, poor Susan, oyercoming the passion of her
tears so far as to enable her to speak, poured
forth the torrent of her grief. It was distress-
ing, and because it seemed to come from a
broken heart, it was also a heart-breaking wail.
Were it written, it would appear but little
better than a maudlin, love-sick lamentation;
but to have beard it come from the delicate
thing that uttered it, every word tremulous
with anguish, it seemed — nay, it was — the
doquence of pathos.
^ John, dear — dear John, I cannot bear it :
I can't indeed. My bosom seems bursting. It
is better to die, John, believe me it is — I will
die with you. As they take you to the horrid
torture, plunge into the sea through the port.
Tour Susan will be with you-^ohn, do it, for
God's sake do it! I will be in your arms.
Trust me — I have courage. Oh, how I should
glory in such a death P
All this was said in an energetic whisper, so
that the sentry might not overhear this suicidal
190 JACK A8HORS.
advice. But Poll caught every word of it. At
firBt she was utterly astonished; but having
more than a woman's natural gift of speech^
(Lord help John!) she started up on her kne^
and placing her arms a-kimbo^ and wagging
her head from side to side, opened her
battery.
<* Hoity toity» and the devil claw your ugli-
ness. Miss Susan Snowdrop. What do you
mean, you undersized, pale-faced, minikin-
moppet ? You may die, and be d d to you ;
but let me catch Jack dying, and by the holy
poker I'll lead him such a life, that he sha^n't
know whether his soul is his own or no. Out
upon you, cream-faced hussey, to make a man
that is a man, afeard to take a few paltry dozen
like a man! A cursed ninny was I, Mary
Macannister, to listen to your romantic titivally
stuff about vartue, dewotion, and such d d
spoonery. Get down to the berth, you snivelling
cow, and clean my shoes, and don't stay here
piping your gooseberry eye to make a fool of
Jack. Why, I'm an honest woman if Jack
JACK ASHORE. 193
ain't a going to drop his jaw and man his eye-
pumps. Ob, joa Jezebel ! you scum of a dirty
bum-boat P
At this moment this sublime specimen of the
vituperative was suddenly broken off by the
hands being turned up for punishment, as we
have before stated, and all the women in the
ship being ordered below. John Truepenny
had not uttered a word, and when the two
females were actually torn from him, he ap-
peared to be utterly passive. Poll was removed
by force, cursing and swearing ; but still her
greatest anxiety was, that Jack should receive
his punishment with an appearance of indiffer-
ence that would uphold his formfr fame.
A.S to poor Susan, for the first time in her
life, she threw her arms round Jack's neck, and
kissed him passionately and loiig. Poll saw
this just as two of the ship^s corporals were
forcing her down the hatchway. Vigorous was
her plunge, and horrible her oath at this sight.
*^"^Be pacified, Mary,** sobbed out Susan.
<* It is the first time and the last."
TOL. I. K
194 JACK ASHORE.
What Poll answered was not distinctly heard,
for there was a scuffle and a screaming as she
was handed down into the lower deck.
The master-at-arms now took Truepenny out
of irons, and whilst this was going forward,
Susan again tempted him to allow her the
pleasure of dying with him, by jumping through
the port*hole. Jack now spoke for the first
time, and, with a look of drollery mingled with
sadness, said — <* Why, I might' as well ; but
what would Poll say ? I should not have much
objection to drown myself to obligate you, but
then I shouldn't be flogged, you know, to obli-
gate Poll. So, Miss Snowdrop, if it's all the
same to you, we'll take the flogging first, and
talk about the drowning afterwards.'^
« Before, before—"
But here the master-at-arms interfered, and
respectfully intimated to Susan that she must
now positively go below. She had been suffered
to remain so long, only from the deference that
was universally paid to her, on account of her
correct behaviour and her romantic story. She
JACK ASHORE. 195
walked forward in deep conversation with the
master-at-arms, whilst, guarded by two marines.
Jack was brought to the gangway.
As we have before stated, with a proper atten-
tion to John Truepenny^s convenience, everything
had been duly prepared to give him a warm
reception^ and to do him honour. A double file
of marines, with fixed bayonets, had been drawn
up on the gangway; aU the officers were as-
sembled on the quarter-deck, wearing their
cocked-hats and side-arms, and very conspi-
cuously placed in the centre of them stood
Captain Firebrass with the articles of war in his
hand, and his hat most ominously slewed right
athwart-ships over his fiery face. His mind
was not entirely satisfied with the act he was
going to perform ; so^ in order to drown re>
flection, he had very judiciously worked himself
into a passion.
The last ineffectual pleadings for mercy for
honest John had been sternly silenced. Fire-
brass came to the very edge of the quarter-
deck, and from thence looked down wrathfully
upon John Truepenny, who^ uncovered, looked
k2
196 JACK ASHOKE.
up resignedly to his captain. The silence was
so intense on board, that the low ripple of the
tide was heard as it plashed under the bow, and
gurgled past the ship. The officer and the
seaman looked at each other for some time ; at
length, two big tears tumbled over from out
Jack's eyes, and trickled down bis rery hand-
some face. The captain smiled scornfully.
Jack brushed away those evidences of feeling
with the sleeve of his jacket, with a hurried
action of indignation, and looking proudly up,
exclaimed—
** It is only the gals I'm thinking on, yer
honour, not myself; you may now cut away,
and do your worst. '^
John then assumed a look so cold and rigid,
that it would have drawn smiles of approbation
from an assembly of Spartans.
It was usual, at least in our time, at every
punishment at the gangway, to do what the
methodists would call ^^ improve the occasion — **
that is, sermonize, according to the captain's or
commanding officer's talent at sermonizing.
Sometimes this infliction was almost as bad as
JACK ASHORE. 197
the stripes, even to the flogged; to all those who
bad not committed any offence it was intolera-
ble. This speechifying was very similar to
the good-humoured sport a cat takes with a
mouse before she crunches up its poor little
bones — a sport in which the pleasure is most
unequally divided.
But most of these flagellation harangues
b^an with one identical sentence : '* My man — "
or sometimes, if the skipper was remarkably
polite — '^ my good man, do you know why
you are brought here ?*' Various have been the
answers.
** Not exactly,'' was the imprudent reply of
John Truepenny. Captain Firebrass swore a
terrible oath, boxed a midshipman's ear for
craning his neck too much forward to observe
what wasgoing on, and finally opened the articles
of war with an emphatic bustle that boded no
good to our hero.
198 JACK ASHORE.
CHAPTER XIII.
The miseries of suspense-mental not so soon over as suspense-
cerriosl-^A little toaeh of the classica] prodaced by a
contemplation of the bom-boat woman — Much excitement
and anziety-^Change for a penny wanted — Ceptain Fire-
brass uncivil.
John is not yet flogged, but every appearance
is strongly indicative that he will be shortly
made happy by the consciousness that it is all
over. But, alas ! there is many a slip between
the cup and the lip. Excellent proverb !
The temptation to preach upon it is almost
equal to that of making a flagellation sermon.
But we are possessed of no common forbearance.
Let the prosy imitate us, and prose no more.
Whilst all these threatening proceedings were
taking place on board of the Glory, the June
sun was shining brilliantly ; it was a cheerful
JACK ASHOBK. 199
breezy day, not too waitn ; for there was an
exhilarating sjHrit in the air that made one feel
that, wherever it is to be enjoyed and perfected,
there is something immortal in the nature of
man. It was such a day, that that person
should have been flogged himself who would
think of spoiling it by flogging another in its
benevolent and glorious sunshine^
On such a day it was a surprise to nobody
that many boats with pleasure^seeking parties
should spread their little sails, and put out a
mile or two to sea* But something more than
common seemed to have tempted the people of
Portsmouth to venture out this morning.
Three long six-oared galleys, each some hundred
yards apart, though abreast of each other, were
seen straining, with all the energy and strength
of the rowers, to make the best of their way to
the fleet at Spithead. These galleys were
accompanied by a number of wherries, all
pulling for their very lives; in some of them
there were different kinds of music, and most of
them had several of the frail sex in their stem-
200 JACK ASHORE.
sheets, all decked out in their gaudiest attire.
Small flags were flying in many of the boats ;
and those which could not boast of such a dis-
play had hoisted various coloured handler*
chiefs. It seemed as if Portsdown fair was
taking an aquatic excursion. It was evidently
a jubilee of some sort, and one in which the
lower orders took especial delight.
But we must keep our attention particularly
fixed upon the three well-manned and fast-
pulling galleys, one of which has taken the
lead, and the whole three are straining to gain
a particular point, and each of them to outstrip
the other. The cort^e of less well-equipped
boats are left considerably behind.
As the different boats passed the ships of the
fleet in succession, they gave loud cheers, but
on what occasion it was impossible for those on
board to divine. Some thought that a great
victory over Bonaparte, who was then making
the first strides in his ambitious career, had
been obtained ; some, that there was a change
of ministry-— for the community always wel-
JACK ASHORE. 201
come a change ; and some, that there was to be
a new member of parliament for the town of
Portsmouth.
It DOW became evident that the three galleys
had selected the Old Glorv for their destination,
as she was lying a great way outside of the
rest of the ships. In the foremost galley, be-
sides the six boatmen, all dressed in white, with
bows of blue ribbon affixed to their right arms,
there were two fiddles, a French horn, and a
clarionet, all playing with might and main,
** See the Conquering Hero comes." But
what made this boat the more remarkable was
a large new silk banner, which was displayed
at the head, and streamed forth gallantly over
the men pulling in the boat. In the centre of
this flags on a light blue ground, ^et^ em-
blazoned the following arms : — On a gorgeous
shield, divided into three compartments, were,
on the first, on a chief azure, three silver pennies
proper ; on the second, or, three turrets proper ;
on the thirds argent, three wheels proper, all
within a border sa« Fpr crest, were the head
and bust of the goddess Fortune with her eyes
K 5
203 JACK ASHOBE.
andaged) all proper ; and the motto^ in large
letters of gold, was —
VERUM DENABIUM MUTATUB IN EQUITE TEBO.
CHANGE FOB A PENNY.
In the stem-sheets of this boat sat, fully
aware of the dignity of his appointment, the
chief constable of Portsmouth, between whom
and Mr. Scrivener was the fair and wonder-
ing daughter of the latter, resplendent in much
finery, and really looking very beautiful. Mr.
Scrivener's enthusiasm was wonderful. He
seemed to perspire bright globules of anima-
tion. He cheered till he was out of breath ;
and when he could no longer vociferate, he dis-
played his ecst^y by waving his hat with one
hand, and a very respectable roll of parchment
with the other.
The next boat in the procession could boast
of neither band nor lady. It was also pulled by
six rowers, but they worked as strong, sober
men should do^they evidently wanted the
vinous excitement of the crew that had out-
stripped them. The after part of this boat
JACK ASHORE. 208
cootaioed only one person, with the exception
of the coxswain* He was plainly dressed, was
evidently a professional man, and was distin-
guishable from most others only by his pecu-
liarly placid and sensible countenance. His
demeanour was in marked contrast to that of
Mr. Scrivener. He was evidently in the best
of humours, but his enjoyment of his happiness
was quiet, and, if we may use the expression,
interoaL He was also a lawyer, but the rara
iwis of the profession, the honest one already
known to us by the name of Josiah Single-
heart.
The third boat of pretension was a black gig,
evidently bdonging to some stylish yacht; it
was well manned, and, had its crew put forth
its strengtbf could have very easily beaten the
two galleys. The single gentleman in her, and
who steered by tiller-ropes, seemed to be more
intent on observing the motions of the two
galleys, than desirous of pushing forward, or of
being the first to gain the Old Glory, which was
now palpably the destination of this miscellaneous
fleet of boats. The gig carried the person, and
204 JACK ASHORE.
we may also truly say the fortunes, of Sir Ed*
ward Fortintower.
No sooner had Mr. Scrivener^s boat, with its
clamour of music, and shouting, and screaming
—-for Miss Scrivener had just found it conve-
nient to become a little hysterical — got within
hail of the Glory, than the sentries on the bows
and gangway began to warn her off under the
penalty of being fired upon, if Mr. Scrivener
persisted in coming alongside — which, however,
he did very valiantly.
'<Eeep off! keep offP vociferated the
sentinels.
** Don't you see the signal for punishment
flying ?'' shouted the quarter-master.
** Fire upon that insolent rascal T roared
out Captain Firebrass, with an oath, running
to the gangway with the articles of war in his
hand.
*^ Squar — ah — a P shrieked Miss Scrivener.
^' Crash, dash, squash I" went the band,
with more than usual energy.
" Sir John Truepenny !" bellowed forth the
lawyer and the boatmen, the latter lying upon
their oars, and all waving their hats.
JACK ASHORE. 205
<' By all that is indifferent P bellowed Cap-
tain Firebrass, *< if you come a foot nearer, TU
sink you with cold shot l'^
^ The silver oar ! the silver oar !" said the
head constable of Portsmouth, standing up as
well as he could, and steadying himself with
his left hand, whilst he displayed the symbol of
civil authority in his right.
*' Double the sentries — place men in the
chains and on the gangways with cold shot *
The first boat that touches the Old Glory's
sides, down she goes, and not a mother's son of
ye shall be picked up — damn ye all !'' said
Firebrass.
" Sir John Truepenny for ever !" was the
answering cheer.
The orders of the captain of the Glory were
promptly obeyed. Neither he nor his officers
well understood this commotion. They ima-
gined that it was some foolish plot got up by
Miss Snowdrop, to prevent the man she was
crazy for from being flogged. In the cheers
that came from the boats, the *^ Sir" was not
marked) and it seemed that they were simply
206 JACK ASHORE.
cheering " John Truepenny." This only
hastened the preparations to commence the
flogging.
By this time all the shore-boats had crowded
round the ship, and made a motley but re-
markably gay appearance. But the boat that
far excelled all the others was the large and
stoutly-built bumboat of Mrs. Snowdrop. Mrs.
Snowdrop had received her name from the
public at large, and not from either of her bus-
bands^ though she had had fifteen, without
having been married to any one of them. Her
neighbours and her customers, the jolly tars of
the fleet, began to be tired of calling her by a
new name every year, as she appeared under
the protection of a new husband; so they styled
her Mrs. Snowdrop, to prevent further trouble ;
the word ** snow,^ in allusion to her very dark
and swarthy complexion, the word '* drop,^ to
her immense corpulency. Mrs. Snowdrop had
been in a state of merry widowhood for the
last eighteen months.
There have been some rather brilliant de-
scriptions of Cleopatra's barge — and some of
JACK ASHORE. 207
Cleopatra benelf. We will not presume to
compare Mrs. Snowdrop with Cleopatra, though
we should surmise, that, in point of complexion,
there must have been a gratifying similarity ;
but, when we come to the barges of the beau-
ties, we shall not certainly be so ready to give
the preference to the wanton Egyptian's.
By some means, which money alone can
command, Mrs. Snowdrop had got the True-
penny banner made just as large again as that
which floated over the galley of lawyer Scri-
vener. But she had two— a large one planted
in the bow, and a little one gracefully hanging
over the stem. Then, the number of her mu-
sicians was double, and the loudest playing
noise-creators that could be found.
But the boat itself was most glorious. At a
distance it seemed like a floating bower of roses,
dotted over with flags and streamers. In the
first place, the whole of it had been matted
over, to a considerable height, with green
boughs — always excepting a small space in the
stem-sheets, which displayed the august pon-
derosity of Mrs. Snowdrop's person, where she
sat alone in her glory.
208 JACK ASHORE.
These arches of green boughs were spread
over with every flower that the young summer
and the mild climate of Hampshire could pro-
duce; but Mrs. Snowdrop, in the exuberance
of her taste, was not content with the natural
beauties of the gardens and the fields — she
stuck the whole over with a crop from the
haberdashers, consisting of large bows of blue
and white ribbons, whilst others of all gay
colours streamed freely forth to the wind.
Little silk banners, also, drooped over the sides ;
and, to add to the effect, several branches bear-
ing real cherries, both red and white, were
placed amidst all this gorgeousness. The band
was completely hidden by this arbour of united
ribbons and roses, and the oars were put forth
through the foliage, and propelled the boat
lustily, without the human agency being visible.
According to Wapping notions, nothing could
be finer as it moved along the waters, the black
man with his cymbals, and the kettle-drum,
giving cheerful note of its majestic progress.
But the gorgeous Mrs. Snowdrop ! She was
certainly not like one of the lilies of the valley.
JACK ASHOBV. S09
but much more like Solomon in all his glory.
The superficies of her body was spacious, very
spacious, yet did the lady find it all too scant
for the display of her adornments. All we can
say is, that wherever a bow, a piece of jewel-
lery, or a piece of tinsel, could be displayed,
displayed it was— and yet, so inordinate is
human vanity, Mrs. Snowdrop was not satisfied.
As her boat, owing to the lofty bower with
which it was covered, held a great deal of the
cheerful breeze that was gambolling over the
sunlit sea, it was, where it ought not to have
been, one of the last of the train. It had, at
length, joined the others, and its braying band
was clamorous over the waters, and reverberated
against the sides of the Old Glory, on board of
which, notwithstanding its closely-packed mul-
titude of men, all was silent as death.
Room, by the involuntary respect paid to
splendour, was made for Mrs. Snowdrop, and
she, pushing through the crowd of boats, made
boldly for the entering port of the Old Glory,
when the order *^ to keep off," and the display
of cold shot, made her pause on her oars. She
210 JACK ASHORE.
Stood up, and, waving her handkerchief, shouted
" Sir John Trueponny for ever ! Change for
a penny I"
The cheer was taken up enthusiastically by
the floating multitude, and ^* Sir John True*
penny for ever I Change for a penny !" sounded
along the whole line of the astonished fleet, just
at the very moment that Sir John himself was
going to be flogged.
In the mean time, we must not lose sight of
Sir Edward Fortintower in his fast-pulling gig.
He had held a short conversation with Mr.
Singleheart, and then, watching his opportu-
nity, dropped quietly under the bows of the
three-decker, and displaying a half-guinea, soon
learned from a man who was melancholily
wringing swabs in the head, the true state of
things on board. This he had no sooner ascer-
tained, than placing his gig in the centre of the
squadron of boats, he demanded silence at the
top of his voice, and spoke thus — ** Men, bro-
thers. Englishmen ! They are this moment
going to flog Sir John Truepenny ! It is illegal
as well as cruel ; he belongs not to the navy —
JACK ASHORE. 211
he is no longer under martial law — he has been
discharged from the service by the lords of the
Admiralty. The discharge is in the hands of
the head constable with the silver oar — here is
a copy of it. Shout, shout !^
Horrible were the yells and clamour that
ensued — ^loud the curses— intense the anxiety.
Mrs. Snowdrop threatened to go into fits — Mr.
Scrivener threatened innumerable actions — Miss
Scrivener had actually fainted — and our honest
lawyer, Mr. Singleheart, talked very loudly
and very learnedly about habeas corpus and
the bill of rights. All this availed nothing— *
the boats were kept off.
212 JACK ASHDRE.
CHAPTER XIV.
The skipper in a fair way of being diuppoioted — Mutiny in
the ahoie-boats, and aomeching near it on board — The Old
Glory boarded and taken — Change for a penny procured at
last— 'Much edification attempted — ^The man of law gets the
better of the man of war-- -and much hostility terminated in
an amicable conference.
During these transactions, the scene on board
the Glory was singular. There stood Captain
Firebrass, livid with rage, and inarticulate with
passion. His officers now, in feelings^ sided
partly with him. They felt the service greatly in-
sulted, and their own dignity undervalued, by
what they supposed to be an attempt of the
mobocracy to interfere with naval duty. It
was generally imagined that Susan Snowdrop
had instigated her mother to make this maritime
JACK ASHOKE. 213
etneute in favour of Jack* The men were
anxious and silent, but mutiny was in the hearts
of many.
At length Captain Firebrass had so far re-
covered as to commence reading the article of
war against drunkenness^ every sentence of
which was chorussed by the shouts of '* Sir
John Truepenny for ever ! Change for a
penny !*•
That short ceremony over, Captain Firebrass
roared out, " Strip !"
^* Sir Jolm Truepenny for ever I Change
for a penny !" from the boats.
The master-at^irms, a shrewd old man,
under pretence of assisting the prisoner, con-
trived to whisper in his ear, ** to be as long as
be could.'*
Jack, understanding nothing at all that was
going forward, determined to follow his advice.
He fumbled at his silk handkerchief, and con-
trived to make its running tie an intricate
knot.
** Strip^ you mutinous scoundrel, strip T said
the captain.
S14 JACK ASHORE.
" Sir John Truepenny for ever ! Change
for a penny I Yah ! Murder ! Shame ! To
hell with old Firebrass ! Sir John Truepenny
for ever ! Murder ! Change for a penny I"
" By G— d ! I'll fire upon the boats P said
the captain.
'* Pray consider the women, sir,^ said the
first lieutenant, firmly, but respectfully.
There was a dangerous and an uneasy moving
about of the closely-packed men on the main-
deck, though no word was spoken.
*' fietter defer the punishment, sir,** said the
captain of marines, taking off his hat, and
speaking officially.
^* Another word to that effect, and I'll put
you under arrest. Strip, rascal, strip !^
*^ I can't undo my handkerchief. Poll has
tied it in a true-love knot !" said Truepenny,
quite carelessly and at his ease.
" Gro it, Jack !" was distinctly heard from
several voices among the men, and all of them
grimly smiled their approbation.
" Master-at-arms ! take off the prisoner's
handkerchief r
JACK ASHOBE. 215
The master-at-arms was not more successful.
Captain Firebrass threatened to disrate him,
and ordered him to pluck it off over his head.
But Jack's head had grown unaccountably
large, or the knot had been tied closely round
his throat.
'< Cut it off the villain^s neck P' said the cap-
tain.
It was done, and now no impediment pre-
vented Jack from taking off his check shirt,
which he did very deliberately, and amidst the
cries from the boats, of *' Sir John Truepenny
for ever I Change for a penny !*'
The lashings were soon produced, and, at
length, with his arms fully extended, his manly,
broad, and brilliantly white back was exposed
to the public view. So symmetrica], and so well
pronounced was its muscle, and so classical its
form,' that a sight of it would have been a rap-
ture to a statuary. The punishment, the dis-
grace, seemed inevitable. Captain Firebrass
was unmanly enough to express in his counte-
nance a savage delight. The fault, the crime,
was not the impulse of his heart, but of his
216 JACK ASHORE.
temper; but man will Dot, nor ought he to
distinguish, when the evil is the same to a
fellow-creature: — we hope, for the thousands
that have tortured their fellow-creatures under
its influence, that Grod may.
*^ Boatswain's-mate, do your duty !" said
Firebrass, in a calm voice.
llie stalwart petty officer stood forward from
the group, and deliberately drawing his huge
fingers through the nine knotted tails of the
cat, in order that each fibre of the scorpion
might have its due advantage to sting, be flou-
rished the instrument of torture once round his
head ; — but, before it could descend upon the
back of the prisoner, a singular and a lovely
obstacle intervened, and he arrested his hand
in the mid-air.
A shriek and a slight bustle in the crowd,
and Susan had sprung upon Jack's shoulders,
and clasping his neck with her arms, there she
glued herself. She spoke not — she was pale as
death — she seemed even dying.
** Damnation !" roared out Captain Fire-
brass.
JACK A8HORR. 217
** Sir John Truepenny for ever ! Shame !
Murder! Change for a penny T came with
an increased energy from the boats*
The cry of ** shame** now began to be more
audible among the crew. The crisis was dan-
gerous. The men might be hurried into some
act of mutiny under the influence of sympathy,
which, when suppressed, could, for the sake of
the generous motive itself, hardly be punished.
The men had already begun to press too rudely
upon the circle of boatswain's mates and petty
officers^ and to cry out ** Pardon I Captain
Firebrass, pardon l*^
Poor Jack himself was affected to agony, and
began to cry like a child. Several good men
said, ^ I can't stand it,"* — ^very ominous words
when uttered by sedate and tried seamen.
But Captain Firebrass was not the man to
be shaken. His measures were prompt. He
ordered a strong division of marines down into
the main-deck, and directed them to bear back
the men who crowded too much upon the spape
reserved for the punishment. When this was
effected, and a circle of marines had been
VOL. I. L
218 JACK A8HOEE.
formed round Jack and Susan, two of the ship's
corporals were ordered to unloosen the girPs
grasp. This they were unable to effect The
surgeon and one of his assistants then gave
their aid, but with no better result. The
whole proceeding was unmanly, yet stem duty
seemed to say that it must go on.
The surgeon said that he feared the girl
would go into coByulsion% and recommended
that the punishment should bo deferred. To
this Captain Firebrass observed, *^ That he
might bleed the young — — where she waa,
and he would answer for it that that would
make her loose her hold."
This speech disgusted the sternest advocates
for discipline ; and as this disgust was not dift-
guised, the captain's fury became intense.
Susan herself now increased his difficulties.
Hitherto she had remained perfectly silent, but
now, all at once, she commenced screaming like
a maniac. O that woman's scream! how
loud, how excruciating ! who can hear it, and
not bum to fly to the relief of the sufferer?
Its effect was electrical. The mother heard
JACK ASHORE. 919
and knew ber child's shriek of paiiu The
crowds in the boats heard it, and shuddered at
first, and then they said, ^* They are floggii^
a woman P and they shuddered no more, but all
pushed forward. Now there was no fear of
sentries or cold iron shot. Some muskets were
fired, and some shot thrown into the sea — ^but
all harmlessly — ^for the hearts of those within
were with those without The gallant Old
Glory was actually boarded and taken by
sbore-boatsy wherries, and bum*boat8, manned^
if we may use the expression, by women, boys,
fiddlers, and lawyers.
But the first person who gained the quarter-
deck was Reai^miral Lord Gambroon, whom
at this crisis Sir Edward had brought on board
in bis own gig. Mr. Scrivener, and the head
constable with his silver oar, came next ; and
these were immediately followed by Mrs. Snow-
drop and her long train of admirers.
Lord Gambroon, who had been made ac-
quainted with all the particulars by Sir Ed-
ward Fortintower, immediately ordered John
Truepenny to be cast off, taking all the re.
L 2
220 JACK ASHORE.
poDsibility of the act upon himself. Mrs. Snow-
drop knew not which to do first, to fiy at Cap-
tain Firebrass and tear out his eyes, or to hurry
to the relief of her daughter, who was now in a
swoon, and under the care of the surgeon. The
mother's tenderness got the better of the woman's
fury, and she directed all her care to Susan'^s
recovery.
In the mean time, Lord Grambroon, having
said a few kind words to the intruders in the
ship, ordered them all out of it, with the excep-
tion of the two lawyers. Miss Scrivener, who
would not leave her father, the constable. Sir
Edward, and Mrs. Snowdrop. Having thus
restored the usual order of a man-of-war, he
told Captain Firebrass, who was wrathfuUy
pacing the quarter-deck, that he should now be
happy to explain to him, and hear from him
in return, any explanations he might have to
o£Per, concerning these strange transactions.
** Explanations, my lord I I have no expla-
nations to make. The even course of duty lies
plainly before me. You have virtually taken
the command of this ship from out my hands.
JACK ASHORE. 221
1 consider myself as a prisoner — ^as such I de-
mand a court-martial on my conduct— and as such
I resign my sword into your lordship's hands."
*^ Be not so hasty, good Captain Firebrass-^
be not BO hasty ; for what saith the wise man of
the holy word ? But woe is it to you that
you regard too little what might there be found,
more precious to you than silver, or gold, or all
worldly wealth. Be not over hasty !**
^' Over hasty I In the name of all that is
honourable, what have I done to deserve this
insulting interference? A man gets drunk,
against the good discipline of the navy, and in
direct violation of an article of war ; I am going
to punish him, in order that I may repress a vice
too prevalent in the service ; when, by means
of his connexions on shore, the prisoner raises a
sort of riot on the ocean, to stay the arm of
justice. Am I — is any officer deserving of his
commission, to have his course of duty turned
aside by such a rebellious display as that which
you have just witnessed?*^
^ Certainly not. Captain Firebrass ; you are
in the right, and, so far as you were informed.
222 JACK ASHOEE.
have acted very rightly ; but I think that you
should have displayed some little respect to the
ensigns of the civil powers of these realms.
Had you done so in this instance^ much of this
unpleasantness had been avoided.*'
<< The silver oar !** pertly interposed the head
constable.
" May be d d ! and all who pull at it P
said the irate captain, who, turning to the
rear-admiral, thus continued, *^ I hope, my
lord, it is no breach of duty to swear at a
fellow who shoves his oar in uncalled for, in this
manner."
cs
Swear not at all!'' said his lordship, so-
lemnly.
** Well, my lord, I won't, to oblige you.
Enough to make Simon the Less swear though !
This fellow, my lord, talks about his silver oar ;
but I had, and still have, as your lordship may
perceive, my signal flying that punishment is
going on on board this ship."
** I do," said his lordship ; *^ pray let it be
taken down immediately.^
*^ With your lordship's permission I had
JACK ASHORE. 823
rather that it should be kept flyiDg—*at least all
the time that your lordsbip does tne the hooour
to remain od board* I always supposed that
the dgnal was to be hdd sacred."
'' I do not blame you^ Captain Firebrass; be
not over-hasty ; it would have been an expen*
sive matter to you, had you flogged this man.
It is now three days since he has been relieved
from his responsibility to martial law. Here
is the original discharge by the Admiralty.**
Captain Firebrass read it, and, when he came
to the words, '* Sir John Truepenny, Baronet,
of Fortintower-hall, now serving in your ship
under the name of John Truepenny,*^ burst into
a prolonged fit of laughter.
^ You dare not disobey that order,** said his
lordship.
** No^ no I my lord — ^but I wish I had flogged
him first/'
** That was an unamiable wish «-^ an un*
worthy wish T said Lord Gambroon, reproach..
fuUy.
" I can't help it, my lord. Oh I it would
Si24 JACK ASHOEB*
have been so glorious to have flogged a Sir John !
I wish I had \^ with a deep sigh.
*' I wish you had, with all my heart and
soul," said Mr. Scrivener. ^ Would not I
have trounced you ? I would. What a glo-
rious action ! Damages ten thousand pounds I
Costs five hundred ! You move for a new
trial — damages excessive — misdirection of j udge
to jury — Cleave granted on payment of costs —
good — mark that, on payment o{ costs I Gro it
again — ^same verdict You get in a passion,
call me names, cheating lawyer, et cetera, and
so forth. Another action — more damages-
more costs. I wish you had flogged Sir John,
I do indeed. Is it too late now ?"
** Who the devil are you, you lank-visaged
scarecrow P"^ said Firebrass, turning upon Mr.
Scrivener like a worried tiger.
^' Gro on, Captain Firebrass — go on ; words
not actionable yet— soon will be. O pray have
the goodness to go on, gentle Captain Fire-
brass.^'
** Who is this rascal ?^
JACK A8HOBS. 225
cc
Very good; gentlemen, you are my wit-
nesses. He has called me rascaL Captain
Firebrass, I will tell you who I am. I am
Simon Scrivener, gentleman, one of the certifi-
cated attorneys practising in all his majesty's
courts of law, videlicet — ^
**0 my granny! You cheating, swindling,
bloodsucking vampire — you defrauding vaga-
bond r
** Go on, good Captain Firebrass. This is
very pleasant, I do assure you,*^ said Mr.
Scrivener, noting down every word that the
passionate skipper uttered. ^' Gentlemen all,
you will be served with subpcBnas— <in the
honour of a solicitor you will.**
The gentlemen all moved off, giving Mr.
Scrivener a wide berth.
** Be pacified, Captain Firebrass,'* said Lord
Gambroon, quietly.
*^ In this matter I will not be pacified, my
lord ; there is no peace for me until this sucker
of men^s blood, this robber of the widow and
the orphan, is out of my sight. Away with
l5
226 JACK AtHOBX.
you ! out of my ship this iD9tant. Begone !
common cbeater.**
^ Most excellent I" said Scrivener, still writ^
ing* *^ I tell you I am here, Captain Fire*
brass, as the official friend and legal adviser of
Sir John Truepenny, Baronet. I have lawful
authority for my presence, and I will not go
until I see my client removed from duresBe^
and free from all restraint. Till I see that, go
I will not, Captain vPirebrass — nor will I go at
all without him.*'
"You will not go?"
** Positively I will not, unless upon the ap-
plication of fOTce.**
^ Here, a couple of you, bundle this fellow
down, neck and crop, and pitch him into liis
boat as you would a pig of dirty ballast'*
^* I tell you what, Mr. Sailor-men, you need
not be violent; there — just lay your hands
upon me — that will do-^now I'll go as quietly
as a lamb. A very good morning's work I've
made of it Let me see,^ continued Mr. Scri-
vener, counting upon his fingers ; *^ threes four.
JACK A8HOBB. 327
6¥e aelkms — one of them ad assault of
an cNitrageous nature; besides bringing you»
Captain Firebraas, within the cootaoaptof opurt,
lor interfering between me and my dieat*'
*^ Am I to be bearded in my own ship ? By
all the idob of the Ivitea — ^by the fSalse fire
that would not consume Sbadrach» Ha*
n
<«
Peace, good Captain Firebrass; listen to
, and avoid the sins of evil spiking, inordi*
nate wrath, and profane swearing,^ said I«ord
Gambroon.
Fairly baited into non^reaistanGe, the captain
became passive, and he then heard all the
statements of the case. When Lord Gam-
broon had finished. Captain Firebrass turned
round to Sir Edward Fortintower, and, with*,
out troubling himself with any unnecessary
ceremony, thus accosted him, shaking him by
the hand in a manner that nothing but a very
athletic form could have borne with impunity.
*^ Welcome, and thrice welcome^ to the Old
Glory, Sir Edward. You are the stufi^ thai
seamen should be made of! So you
228 JACK ASHOBB.
intend to surrender all this immense estate with-
out letting the lawyers peck at it. Noble I by
Jupiter, it's noble ! But what will you do^ my
hearty— what will you do ? Too late to make
a sailor of you. O Lord ! O Lord I And yet, I
donH know — join me, and 111 rate you as a
midshipman at once.*^
" Thank you— thank you, most heartily,*'
said Sir Edward. '* I have not yet made the
election of my profession ; but,'^ turning to
Mr. Singleheart, ** really, my good friend here
has spoken first. He is an attorney — ^nay, don't
start back so — and he has kindly o£Pered to
take me as an articled clerk."
*^ And you knocked him down, of course ?"
** Quite the reverse ; I entertained the pro-
position very gratefully."
**' And there was a crossing to be swept in
London ?" said Firebrass scornfully.
After some further conversation, Sir Edward
Fortintower and Lord Garabroon retired into
Captain Firebrass's cabin, at the invitation of
the latter ; but nothing would induce him to
listen to the suggestions of the rear-admiral to
JACK A8HOBE. 229
inyite the two lawyers also; for Mr. Scrivener
was stfl] on the quarter-deck, and the galhtnl
captain, when he had heard his lordship's state-
ment, thought it the wisest plan to give the
attorney as wide a berth as he would have given
to a porcupine.
280 JACK ASHORE.
CHAPTER XV.
Jtoky being cMt off, has a verj pleasant meetiiig— Macb eX"
hilaration, and more exultation, with some explanation that
makes matters more confosed— Jack trims sails, trims him-
self, and (^ires Poll a trimming— -Very hnmhly makes for
the cahin, and plays the ^eat man without knowing it
We must now return to Jack, who had been
just cast off, luckily for hini) unscathed by the
burning torture of the knotted thongs. All was
bewilderment in his mind. At his feet) in-
animate, lay Susan, her dress disordered, and
the surgeon chafing one hand, and Mrs. Snow-
drop, as fine as fine colours and ribbons could
make her, the other. Though her daughter
was in a state so distressing, her own countenance
was more than cheerful ; it was actually wild
with joy and triumph, and every now and then
she would look up and around, and exclaim to
J ACS A8HOBX. 981
the petty officers and seamen who were watching
this curious scene — ^ Keep your distance, feUers
— ^know yerselves and others—the Lord lore
ye I Change for a penny ! Ah, ah — ^rero demme
raree rum !"
Miss Elfrida Eugenia Scrivener, who had
come on bcNurd with her papa, and who, when
she was about to ascend to the quarter-deck,
bad been pressed into the service of recovering
her daughter by the bum-boat lady, was staring
upon all that passed around her, in dumb
astonishment Her beautiful and simple face
never before appeared so beautiful and so simple.
Without the power of self-wUi, she seemed
fucinated to one spot, with her eyes fixed upon
the broad, polished, and naked shoulders of
Jack, whoi in the confusion and hurry that
ensued, could not immediately find his banyan,
and did not, indeed, at first remember that
from his waist upwards he was as naked as the
statue of the Belvidere Apollo.
There stood Elfrida Eugenia, gasing in
stupified delight, inattentive to the pdite offers
of several midshipmen to remove her from a
232 JACK ASHORE.
scene, that, judging from her dress, and, com-
paratively speaking, her lady-like appearance^
they thought must be distressing to her.
Miss Susan Snowdrop had just begun to show
symptoms of returning animation, when her
mother, suddenly starting up, thus addressed
John, who was looking, if possibly more stu-
pified than the young lady of whom he had
made so sudden a conquest.
^< My lud barrownight, I beg your grace-
ship's pardon, but your ludship's back is as bare
as the palm of my hand. O Lord ! la — I do de-
clare — may I have the honorification of putting
on for you your ludship's shirt ? Yer dirty
swabs, where's my lud Sir John Barrownight's
banyan ? *
It was duly produced from among the crowd
of staring and astonished Jack Tars.
^^ Now, my lud barrownight, with your lud-
ship's permission — change for a penny V* and
suiting her actions to her words, she began to
assist Jack to wriggle himself, arms first, into
his worsted vest. ** I hope, my lud, I doesn't
vituperate your ludship's barrownightish back —
JACK ASHOKE. 283
but, as we says, yero demme raree rum for
ever !
^ Gammon I" said Jack — the first word he
bad spoken since he had been cast off from the
grating."
'^ O, your honoured ludship has the whitest
skin, and the softest."
*^ Tell that to the marines,'' said Jack.
But whilst Mrs. Snowdrop was thus solacing
her heavy fat hands more than was absolutely
necessary in adjusting Jack's dress, there was a
sudden sensation among the seamen — ^a bustle—*
the well-packed mass of men divided, and, with
face on fire and arms a-kimbo. Poll burst upon
the scenes and facing Mrs. Snowdrop, first spat
in her face, and then hissed out from between
her teeth, ** You cow!"
^^ You common character !" replied Mrs.
Snowdrop, with a return equal in energy and
saliva.
. *< Madam of many husbands,*^ said Poll,
dropping Mrs. Snowdrop a curtsey to the
ground, ** 111 just trouble you to keep your
234 JACK ASHOBK.
paws to yourself, for no homan touches my
man's flesh but myself."
^^ Mistress of many men," said Mrs. Snow*
drop, with equal courtesy, <^ permit me to
whisper a word in that sow's ear of yourSi His
ludship^s flesh is no meat for such a low trull
as you. Ah, pah ! where's my scent-bottle ?"
** Take that instead on your grog-blossomed
smeller," said Poll, giving her opponent a stre-
nuous rap on her nose.
^' Swallow your false teeth for blue pills,*^
said the lady with the delicate name, delivering
a well-intentioned and a well-executed blow
upon Poll's very handsome mouth.
Jack was between the combatants in a moment.
Miss Scrivener commenced screaming, and
Susan recovered her senses very suddenly. The
officer of the watch came forward, and looking
down into the waist, commanded silence, or-
dered the deck to be cleared, and threatened
the two lady combatants with instant expulsion
from the ship, if they dared to renew the dis*
turbance. This silenced the fray for the
JACK ASHOBB. 285
moment. Miss Scrivener was conducted to her
father^ who was still on the quarter-deck^ whilst
Jack Truepenny, accomp^iied by Poll and Sue^
went down to the lower deck, to put on his best
toggery in his berth ; and Mrs. Snowdrop was
left to enlighten Jack's messmates in her own
peculiar manner, as to Jack^s sudden eTevatioD
to rank and fortune; — telling them, among other
miracles, that when he was married she was sure
that her daughter was to be ** my lady,^ though
she confessed that, b^ng only Jack's mother-in-
htw, she herself would be no more than a countess.
All this wonderful news was but ill under*
stood by the jolly Jack Tars of the Old Glory ;
yet there was not a man among them who did
not^ from the very bottom of his heart, rgoice
at the good fortune of his shipmate. Still they
bad such innate sense of high breeding, that,
during the time John Truepenny was making
his last toilette on board, not one among them
intruded upon him. In fact, so far as they
were concerned, he was never left so completely
alone. Even his messmates already treated
236 JACK ASHORE.
him with a distant respect, that said, as well as
deportment could speak, '^ We do not intend to
take any advantage of the past familiarity that
has subsisted between us."
In the mean time Sir John was, whilst dress-
ing, with all his mother wit — and he had a sen-
sible man's share of it— endeavouring fully to
comprehend his new position in all its bearings.
He had already understood that he had attained
rank and wealth, but the elevation of the one,
and the extent of the other, were still mysteries
to him; and how he should comport himself
under his new relations was the greatest mystery
of alL As yet, everything appeared to him to
be a dream. He remembered how he had
been, in a manner so magical, compromised in
the abduction of the figure-head of the
Glory, which he still believed only to have
been a dream, whilst his captain and facts
seemed to prove it to have been reality ; and he
now strongly suspected that all that was pass-
ing before his eyes was something of the same
description. Jack, however, reasoned with him-
JACK A8H0BK* 987
sdf thus : ** Supposing all this is a dream,
why, like a man of sense, let roe make the most
of it Long may it last P
Having thus made up his mind, he went
about his little affairs in silence, but cheerfully.
Not so Polly. She was all animation, motion,
and clack. She had already told Jack at what
church they were to be married, and when —
had described the chariot — had invited the
guests — and made arrangements at least for the
next two years. But still John spoke not.
Poll then began to turn up her pretty nose at
all her old friends— to profess an utter con-
tempt for salt junk — ^an abhorrence of Irish
pori^ and a thorough loathing at dock-yard
baked biscuit — whilst, for the first time in
her life, she declared that the smell of tar
was an abomination to her. Jack went on
dressing.
She then turned round and began to abuse
old Giles Grimm, for three special reasons;
firstly, because he was ugly ; secondly, because
he had not saved her enough of grog; (for, whilst
this was going on, the ship's company had been
238 JACK ASHOEE.
piped to dinner) ; and thirdly, because as yet
he had not called her ** my lady."
"Hold your jaw, PoUP These were the
first words Jack spoke since be had been below,
and they were spoken in such a tone that Pcdly,
with all her intrepidity, stood rebuked
But where^ all this time, was Susan Snow-
drop? She sat alone, weeping, behind the
canvass that screened her off from the general
berth, and the sanctity of which had never been
violated. She had, at least, learned this from
her assiduous course of novel reading, that her
dearly beloved sailor John was now as far above
her, as she or her mother thought that she
had been above him. She felt all the desola-
tion of her situation. She had now nothing to
offer him, nothing to sacrifice to him, but a
foolish, romantic heart. She had not even any
great share of personal beauty to render her
acceptable in his eyes. She had once fondly
hoped that, in time, she should have won upon
his affections, weaned him from illicit amours,
married him, and ultimately have reconciled
her mother to the match ; and then more than a
JACK A8HOBX. 88D
ampetenoe would have awaited them, to make
the rest of their lives as bappy as Jack's honest
heart and her own devotion to him gave her a cer-
taiDty of becoming. But now, what sacrifice was
it in the power of the poor wretch to make ?
Nothing — bitterly she felt it — ^nothing. She
had taken a most outrageous, a most unmaidenly
step — had made herself ridiculous in the eyes
of all who knew the real facts, and degraded in
the opinion of all those who did not, only to
•ee the man whom she more than idolised borne
off in triumph by the vulgar or the in-
terested ; and had left no other impression on her
lover bnt a manly pity for a maddish, foolishly
Umd girL
Then did her poor breaking heart bitterly
yearn after rank, riches, and, above aU, beauty.
At lei^^, her grief merged into a wildness of
misery ; her sobs, that at first were low and at
long intervals, became more frequent and con-
vulsive, and her stifled moans louder and more
kmd, till they ofiended the fastidious ears of
Miss Mary Macannister.
<< Come out of that, you snivelling, filthy-
240 JACK ASHORE.
nosed trollop, and don't spoil Jack^s glory
by your infernal whimpering. Har done, will
ye?"
** Hold your jaw, Poll, or PU smash it i^
said Jack, speaking for the second time. Poll
bristled up, and was going to be very imperti-
nent ; but seeing John with a savage industry
turning up the cuffs of his jacket, and knowing
well the meaning of this ominous sign, she
changed suddenly from vinegar at the boiling
heat to cool cream, and nothing was to be
seen but smiles, and heard but ** My dear
Jacks,*' '^ loveys,^' and all those little endear-
ing epithets that come doubly dear from hand-
some lips.
Behold Jack rigged out in his very best
man-of-war's attire -— clean, bright, and com-
pact in his dress, and actually magnificent in his
person. The most fastidious court belle would,
with the exception of his large and tar-soiled
hands, have pronounced him faultless. But
Jack was the least joyous of the few around
him. He became even melancholy, and gently
repulsing the little cajolleries of Poll, he sate
I
if
I
JACK A8H0BE. 241
bimself down, with an air absolutely melan-
cbolj, upon the carriage of the gun. The
grief of Susan behind the screen was still audi-
ble, though its loud expression had been forci-
Uj controlled after the gentle admonition of
Pdly. The gloom on Jack's countenance grew
more settled and deep, and his under-lip began
to quiver* At length, slapping his thigh vio-
leotly with his awful spread of hand, in his
own peculiar phraseology he sang out —
*^ May I be jammed between the main-yard
sod the trestle-trees if I can stand this. May
every breath in my body be worked out with
& hand-pump if I'm not taken flat aback,
wd my heart is striking eight bells as fast
as lawyers go to h — ^11 1 Come here, Susan
dear — come here, my darling. Poll, keep
your distance just now, or stand clear;
-*-belay with your jaw tackle. Come, sit on
my knee, Susan. Not a word, Poll— it is the
first time, and if you don't behave yourself, it
diaVt be the last — ^You have been a sweet,
kind fool to me, dear Susan; now tell me,
darling, what poor Jack can do for you.
VOL. I. M
242 JACK A8HOBE.
They tell me that I am rich, and other non-
sense — it may be all moonshine, or it may not
— but, rich or poor, Jack will always remember
you, Sue; and if I could only make you hap-
pier, I'm the man that '11 do it, blow high or
blow low. Come, . let me swab your pretty
peepers. Stagger me ! if there isn't the joys
of a thousand glasses of half-and-half in each
eye, and I never saw it before !"
When John had drawn Susan on his knees,
at first she a little resisted, but gradually she
seemed to feel a pleasure in the situation, and
her left arm grew more strict in its embrace as
it encircled his manly neck. As he spoke she
looked up anxiously into his face, her features
became tranquil, and at length assumed an ex-
pression of heavenly calm and resignation, and
a smile, that actually went all through Jack,
and shook him like electricity, told him how
blissful it was to be thus cherished by him.
But she spoke not — she could not speak.
** Now do, Susan, tell me what I can do for
you. If your mother will not be a mother to
you, and take you to a mother'^s home, I'll buy
JACK ASHOBE. 243
you a bouse, and you shall have servants to
vait upon you, and as many books to read as
money will buy ; and 1*11 begin by buying up
all the circulating libraries in Portsmouth,
Gospcnrt, Portsea, and the half-way houses into
the bargain. There, Sue I"
^ Money and fools are—'' began Poll.
** I say, father Grim, just gag that ,
will ye, for a spell! Lash this marlingspike
with a bit of spun-yam across her damnable
jaws. — So, Susan, when ye have got the house,
and the ship-load of books, and the servants,
and all right and tight like a king's yatch,
youllget a sweetheart — blowed but you will —
a better fellow than Jack, deucedly, — that is
to say, barring seamanship — I won't give in to
any for that ere. And then, you know, Susan,''
(and Jack grew quite cheerful,) ** you'll forget
all this nonsense^ and me too— a rough, un-
lamed, drinking, rollicking, good-for-nothing
varmint — always bating seamanship. Won't
you, Susan ?"
But Susan only clung the closer to Jack,
and embraced him the more hysterically.
M 2
244 JACK ASHORE.
** But why take on so, my darling ? Do you
think I'm not grateful to you, Sue ? Shall I
ever forget the dear, dear girl that wished to
die with me, and for me? dash my eyes out if
I ever shall. Shall I ever forget the dear, dear
girl that covered me with her delicate tender
body, when they were going to cut my flesh in
strips, and I should have left the hooker
scarred and disgraced but for you ? May dogs
eat my living heart, if I ever will. But what
can I do, Sue? X)o you want me to marry
you ? Speaks Susan, speak !^
But here Jack's impassioned flow of words
was interrupted by the noise of the earnest
battle that was raging between Giles Grim and
Miss Mary Macannister, the latter person re-
sisting very ungratefully all Grim's eflbrts to
give her tongue a little salutary repose.
" No, no, Sue,^ continued Jack, " donno ye
think of it. Get a better fellow than me. Be-
sides, there's that virago with the iron in her
teeth — ^she expects I'll make an honest homan of
her — and I've said as much afore I know'd you,
Sue."
JACr ASHOBK. 245
Poll grew suddenly amiable and very quiet
^ And a regler sailor^s word's his bond. Be-
sides, I donU quite zactly know whether all this
ben^t a sort of bamboozle, and my good luck
all on the other side of noman's land.**
^ Poll's sunshine, and belayed her jawing-
tacks,** reported old Grim, methodically.
** Cast off P said Jack, and Polly was re-
stored to the powers of speech.
*' Now, Sue^ darling, I can't think all this is
real — ^*
But Jack was interrupted by the first proof
of the reality of his good fortune^ by the ap-
proach of Captain Firebrass^s steward, with his
hat in his hand, — for which hat he had no occa-
sion, but merely to show that in his hand he
carried it — who, making a very low bow, de-
livered, without the slightest approach to a
smiley and with a tone of the most humble re-
spect, this message : *^ Captain Firebrass pre-
sents his compliments to Sir John Truepenny,
and if Sir John has finished his toilette, would
be happy to see Sir John in his cabin to take
a luncheon before Sir John goes on shore.^'
24f6 JACIC ASHORE.
Jack was taken flat aback ; he took off bis
bat to tbe steward, twitcbed one of bis curling
fore-locks, scraped bis rigbt foot backwards,
and tben delivered bimself of tbe following
answer : —
" My bumble duty to Captain Firebrass,
and thougb my twiligbt is not finished, seeing
as bow it is only one o'clock i^ tb' afternoon,
I'll tumble up tbe after batcbways in less time
tban you can brace round at let-go-and-baul,
and wait upon bis bonour^s honour. Look
after Sue, you Poll and Grim. Poor thing !
she's off again ; — send for the doctor, and get
her mother down."
And thus speaking, with no very great
alacrity in bis steps, and not very light at
heart, he proceeded to tbe captain's cabin,
attended by tbe obsequious steward, who
had taken that opportunity of slipping a letter
into Jack's hand, modestly recommending him-
self as tbe most fit person in tbe world for being
the future major-domo of Sir John Truepenny's
establishments in town and country. Jack
shoved it into bis pocket with the true indif^
JACK A8HO&E* 247
ference of a great man who has good things to
bestow upon suitors, and thus, unconsciously,
made one of the first acts of his elevation quite
en riffle.
248 JACX ASHoaB.
CHAPTER XVI.
Jack's going on shore— Maoh arguficadon, which goes only
to prove Jack a good fellow — ^llie ladies in his way, and
thus he is waylaid, as he makes his way to land — On
the way gets into cold water, which gets him into hot water
—A lawyer's speculations.
The meeting in the cabin was as singular as
the strange combination of circumstances might
well have been supposed to produce. Jack
hitched himself in sideways, very much abashed
and a little bewildered ; and before he could
well distinguish all those before whom he was
standing so akwwardlj, his eyes fell upon Sir
Edward Fortintower, and he immediately began
scraping, bowing, and tugging at his fore-lock
to him with all possible assiduity.
** Sir John Truepenny,"* said Sir Edward,
JACK ASHORE. 249
taking him by the hand, ^* I am most happy to
be the first to congratulate you."
But Jack respectfully wriggled his hand
from out of that of his brother baronet, and
continued scraping his foot, saying, at the same
time, *' Your honour's goodness is too good to
me. I have thought upon your honour a thou-
sand times. Grod Almighty bless your honour
for great kindness to an ilUused sailor. 1*11
serve your honour to the last day of my life.*^
Every one looked surprised excepting Sir
Edward, until Jack, in his own way, reported
that when he was on shore one day at Lisbon,
and half-seas-over, he had been set upon by a
party of assassinating Portuguese, and would
have been, in all probability, murdered, had it
not been for the timely and gallant interference
of Sir Edward, who happened to be at that
place on a yachting excursion.
When this little episode was over, after
much persuasion. Jack was induced to fix him-
self, by fidgetting on the extreme comer of
one of the chairs, and Captain Firebrass thus
explained to Jack his present situation.
M 5
250 JACK A8H0BE.
** Sir John Truepenny — I was just going to
flog you, Sir John — but that's neither here nor
there — let bye-gones be bye-gone; you won't
think the worse of me for that, because you
know, Sir John, you deserved it ; but all my
family — ^little boys and girls and all — ^the glory
of the Old Glory — all gone to glory, I suppose,
now. How could you, Sir John ? — ^made you
captain of the forecastle, and to use me in that
way."
" Your honour," said Sir John Truepenny,
laying his hand emphatically upon his heart,
** as I am a true seaman, though I confess I
do remember, confusically, something going on
in the head, I'm as innocent of the robbery of
them ere gods and goddesses, and little god-
disees, as his honour^s honour, the lord admiral,
who is sitting there."
*' I most implicitly believe you, Sir John
Truepenny."
" I protest. Captain Firebrass — ^" began Lord
Gambroon.
*' Not another word, my lord ; as I said be-
fore, they are gone to glory, and I've got a
JACK A8UORR. 251
fiddle-head instead of a family. Now, Sir
John, listen to me. It has been proved, be-
yand the possibility of moral, or, what is
still better, legal doubt, that you are not only
the heir-at-law, but also the heir, under the
will of Sir Mortimer Fortintower, your grand-
uncle, to all his immense estates. These estates
have been hitherto enjoyed by that noble, gal-
lant gentleman. Sir Edward Fortintower.*^
" Let him enjoy them still.'*'
'* Silence, Sir John ; you are still under his
majesty'*s pennant. This noble, gallant, and
upright gentleman, immediately he heard of
your existence from a rascally attcnney, who
wished to hold this knowledge over him in ter^
rorem—^
'* Roar em ! roar who, your honour ?''
^' I mean, to keep this fact to frighten him
into doing all the dirty scoundrel wished. This
good gentleman, your cousin, employs another
lawyer«-4m honest one, he says — the only foolish
thing I know of him— this honest lawyer — hum,
honest ! — to find out the real truth » and he did
find it out So at once your cousin, without
252 JACK ASHOBE.
costing you a farthing, is ready to surrender
everything up to you ; and the greatness, the
sublimity of this conduct, you will one day
know, when you know what the uncertainty of
the law is, and what, also, is possession in the
eye of this uncertain law.^
^* Noble, noble !" exclaimed several of Jack's
officers, who had been invited into the cabin to
witness this extraordinary scene.
** It is a christian, pious conduct : the Lord
will reward him a thousand-fold,'^ ejaculated
the rear-admiral.
" But, yer honour, 'spose I was dead,'' said
Sir John Truepenny, scratching his titled
head, " whose 'd be all these here estates ?"
*^ Your cousin's. Sir Edward's, unques-
tionably."
'' Oh ! stiffle us !" said Jack, <' it's all as
clear as mud. What need more palaver, your
honners ? I have no right to a pigstye, or as
much grass as would feed a fly, of these here
estates; seeing as how, ye see, yer honours,
that hadn't that brave gentleman saved my life
why, I wouldn'^t have been living, thafs all.
So, to speak properly, my life's his'n, and as
JACK ABHORS. 253
this here depends upoD my life, and my life is
his'n more than mine, why, the estates is his'n
more than mine, — that's what I call chop-logic
for ye, that knocks ye down with the truth on't,
iike a point-blank four-and twenty. So, your
honours, if so be you'd just get me a liberty-
ticket for a week to get married to Poll, why
Jack's content, and no more need be said
about it."
At this cutting of the difficulty there were
olence and smiling, but the silence and the
smiles both proceeded from approbation at
Jack^s straightforward and grateful feelings.
At length Sir Edward rose, and coming to
Jack, took hold of both hands, and said to him,
not without emotion, ^* Cousin John, I am very
proud of you — look upon me henceforward as
your relation and friend. But, dear cousin,
you talk with all the simplicity and innocence
of a child, whilst you possess the most noble
feelings of man. I mean what I say. Though
you may be most willing to bestow, I cannot
receive. Now, my good cousin, listen in silence
to what your excellent captain is going to say
254 JACK ASHOBE.
to you ; for even this very hour it is necessary
for you to do a very important act, indispen^
sable to your new station and rank in life/*
Captain Firebrass then proceeded, in mingled
phraseology, making what was, in the language of
the law, unintelligible to Jack, plain by nautical
illustrations, that he must immediately choose
an attorney — that there were two on board —
and he then detailed how each of them had
acted, and that to Mr. Scrivener he owed it
entirely that he remained so long in the humble
yet honourable situation of able seaman in his
majesty's navy.
Jack was prompt in making up his mind,
and in passing sentence; for he elected Mr.
Singleheart, and concluded with a request that
the admiral and his captain would keel-haul
Mr. Scrivener, or at least suspend him from
the mainyard by a whip under the shoulder,
and bob him up and down, his downward
plunge to take him twelve feet, at least, below
the surface of the water.
It not being possible to accede to tliis very
moderate request, Sir Edward remarked, that,
JACK A8UOBE. 2o5
for the sake of fairnessy both lawyers ought to
be called in, and each suffered to advance his
claims as to the direction of the baronet's
affairs. This being thought just, they were
invited to attend— Mr. Scrivener accompanied
by his daughter.
Mr. Scrivener really made out a plausible
case. He said, and he said truly, that, but
for hina. Jack would never have emerged from
his laborious obscurity, as the time for ad-
vancing his claims, limited by the will, had
nearly expired. He spoke of his activity, his
energy, and his zeal. But Jack heard but
little of his eloquence; for Elfrida, whom her
father had brought to assist him, was now, un-
consciously, his worst foe ; she gazed fixedly
upon the superb-looking sailor, and Jack
thought he had never beheld anything so bril-
liant and so beautiful.
Jack got weary of Mr. Scrivener^s harangue,
and cut it short by telling him, saving the pre*
sence of the company, that *^ he might go to
h — ^U — ** not at the time knowing that the person
upon whom he had bestowed this pleasant mis-
256 JACK ASaOBE.
sion was the father of the lady whom he so
much admired.
The necessary papers were produced, and
Jack duly signed them, constituting Mr.
Singleheart his sole attorney and legal adviser,
as well as steward and agent to his estates;
after which, all the company, filling their glasses,
drank health, long life, and prosperity, to Sir
John Truepenny. We except, in this testi-
mony of good-will, Mr. Scrivener. He waa^
however, invited, with his daughter, to join the
repast, and that luncheon proved a joyous one
to most of the party.
Mr. Scrivener whispered something to his
fair daughter, who had but little need of such
incitement to do the more than gracious to-
wards Jack. He was at once flurried and
captivated. Elfrida Eugenia was more beauti*
ful^ delicate, infinitely more refined than Poll,
and then she was so fascinatingly dressed. Be-
sides, her simple, confiding, and womanly
trusting look was so bewitching, and so unlike
and so superior to Miss Macannister's impudent
and tyrannical beauty. Jack knew himself
JACX A8HOXC. 357
to be held in respect, and already was he pre-
pared to be deeply, devotedly in love. Jack's
vanity would have had a reef or two taken in,
if he had known how much he was indebted to
his bare shoulders.
Well, the luncheon is over, the hands are
tamed up, and Jack, looking very sheepish, is
standing between the rear-admiral and his cap-
tain, on the break of the quarter-deck, in order
to take leave of his shipmates. As there he
stood, he turned round to Sir Edward, and
asked him if he thought he might venture to
give the ship's company a hundred pounds?
Now Jack's friends must not smile at the nig-
gardliness of the proposed gift. As yet Jack
knew not the value of money, and a hundred
pounds then appeared in his eyes a vast sum ;
but divided among more than seven hundred
men, it was really a pitiful present to each in-
dividual.
Sir Edward communicated Jack's wish to
Lord Gambroon and Captain Firebrass, and
their assent was immediately obtained.
258 JACK A8HOBA.
^^ What are your old shipmates to do with
it ?" said the captain.
*^ Buy grog !** was the ready and one-idea
answer.
" No, no/* interposed Lord Gambroon ; ** it
would be a sinful waste of the money. Let
them buy good books and tracts, and have a
religious library for the use of the ship.*'
Captain Firebrass screwed up his visage, as
if attempting to swallow a bolus too large for
him, at this very sensible proposition.
*^ Perhaps,'^ said he, <* it would be the best
plan to submit it to the choice of the men them-
selves."
This was agreed ta In a few pithy words
the skipper told the ship's company of the
change in Jack's afiPairs, and of the hundred
pounds that he had bestowed upon them as a
parting gift. Then the question for them to
decide was, ** grog or tracts ? Now, who
hold up their hands for the good books?"
** For shame ! this irreverence — ^" com-
menced his lordship.
JACK ASHORE. "259
Not a single flipper rose above the waist-
bands.
" Grog ?"
Every hand, right and left, was above the
heads.
" Am sorry to say, ray lord, grog has it."
Lord Gambroon made a few very proper
and sensible remarks to the men, to which they
listened very respectfully and attentively, for
they were happy in the contemplation of the
evening jollification. His lordship found, also,
his indemnity in his oration, and thus all parties
seemed satisfied.
Having made a short fumble of a speech
with tears in his eyes. Jack took leave of his
shipmates as well as he could, and said he was
ready to go on shore ; and then standing in the
midst of the officers and the company, put-
ting on a droll look, he turned his empty
pockets inside out, and said, <*Why, gentle-
men, d'^ye see, this is all very well for poor
Jack on a land cruise, because he can take up
a slop jacket of Mr. Abraham Isaackson for
thirty shillings on tick, and take it to my
260
JACK ASHORE.
uncle^s and get fifteen in rhino; but for Sir
John Truepenny, barrow-night — O fie !"
At this ludicrous appeal every hand was
stretched towards him, and there was not one
that did not contain a sum of money. But the
bag full of guineas offered him by Mr. Scri«
vener was by far the largest Jack eyed it
wistfully ; but the other, Jack's appointed
lawyer, Mr. Singleheart, interfered, whereupon
a fierce altercation ensued between the two
legal gentlemen.
In the midst of this, Jack had recourse to
Sir Edward, whom he looked upon as his
guardian angel. When Sir Edward understood
that Jack could write tolerably well, he ex-
plained to him the nature of banking, and the
use of a check-book — told him that there were
two thousand pounds lodged for his use at the
Portsmouth bank, whilst the ready money at
his disposal at the banker^s in London was
much more considerable; and advised him to
take a few guineas for his present use from his
attorney.
Jack took his first lesson in the art of expen-
JACK ASHORE. 861
diture remarkably well. Then his cousin pro-
ceeded to give him much good advice, and
concluded by telling him that he would not
go on shore with him, lest it should be thought
that he strove to control him, and lest it should
be said that Jack was not a free agent ; but he
told him that he would remain a short time at
Portsmouth to see how he went on, and as he
behaved himself, he would visit him or not
It was now arranged that Sir John True-
penny was to goon shore with his attorney in the
six-oared galley ; and then, shaking hands with
all on the quarter-deck, he prepared to depart.
But we cannot let him take leave without re-
cording Lord Gambroon's parting address, the
more especially, as his lordship's presence will
not again be required in our nautical drama.
** Captain Firebrass,^ said he, ** you have
borne me great enmity, and I have returned it
only with good offices, for the sake of Him
whom I serve. You have said jeering things
of me, and I have spoken in praise of you, as
an officer brave and zealous, for that commenda-
tion you have deserved. Now, tell me, my friend
262 JACK ASHORE.
— because I am anxious about the life to oome^
have you found me deficient in any of my
duties in the life that is? Have I been
wanting in the heat of battle or in the lei-
sure of peace, in the storm or in the calm ?
Then, why not do me the justice that I am will*
ing to do not only to you, but to all men?^
" Henceforward, my lord, I will,* said Cap-
tain Firebrass, solemnly.
** It is well — we are friends. Now, young
man," turning to Sir John Truepenny,
^^you are like unto a brand flung into a
fiery furnace. I advise you to watch and
pray. Eschew the company of the dissolute
and evil. Listen to the words of your honour-
able cousin, who is an upright man, and , above
all, study these goodly and godly writings.**^
Before Jack knew well where he was, he
found himself hugging in his arms a large
bundle of religious tracts, put into them by
somebody, he did not well know who.
Having shaken hands with Jack, and bid
God to bless him, the guard of honour was
summoned, and the rear-admiral departedln
the Glory's barge for his own ship.
JACK ASHOBE. 263
Instead of Sir John going on shore in a quiet
and decent manner with his own lawyer, when
he reached the middle deck on his waj to the
entering port, which was the occupation of half
an hour, as there was not a man, woman, or
boy in the ship who would let him go over the
side until he and she had shaken hands with
him, he found himself intercepted by Mrs.
Snowdrop. She laid violent fists upon him,
but he resisted both persuasion and violence
until he had effected a compromise with her,
that Poll should go on shore in the same boat.
In this, the huge bum-boat woman was obliged
to acquiesce. Susan, ill and pale, had been
placed in the boat some time before, and she
found, screened by the green bower, that quiet
and repose which was then so needful to her.
At length they shoved off. The huzzas
were tremendous; and three 'of the loudest
cheers ever heard was the farewell of the
Glory. The news had now spread through
the fleet, and the seamen had obtained leave to
cheer him as he passed each ship. It was a
holiday and a day of triumph. The various
264 JACK A8HORB.
bands in the boats made joyous though dis-
cordant music, and all was mirth and revelry.
As Jack passed down the fleet, he stood up
with his hat in his hand and returned the
cheers ; he then sat down, and — woe to poor
Jack ! — Mrs. Snowdrop produced a large case-
bottle of smuggled cognac, so powerful, so
smooth, and so intoxicating — ^it was ^* just like
love*' — ^infinitely more like than ** yonder rose,"
or any rose near or afar.
Sir Edward saw all this, and shook his head
sorrowfully. Then pulling alongside Mr.
Singleheart, he bade him not lose sight of his
client, and, full of melancholy, he made his men
give way, and hasten from the noisy floating
crowd ; and landing, he repaired to his quiet
hotel, and there shut himself up for the evening.
But there was one in the crowd of the aqua-
tic revellers, who was as sorrowful and as
angry as disappointed avarice and malice could
make him, though his bannered barge was as
gay, and in much better taste, than the gaudiest
boat of this plebeian triumph. This afflicted
person was Mr. Scrivener. When seated in
aACX A8HOBE. 865
bis gallej) his first impulse was to pluck down
the Truepenny flag^ the next to abuse his sim-
ple daughter.
'* Eugenia, — ^fool, dolt, simpleton, — ^but the
idiot will not understand me,-^own with that
silken gew-gaw. Hold your hand ! let it re-
main — ^I will not yet strike my colours—
daughter, can you comprehend me ? Have you
two ideas ? You saw that sailor — ^that hand-
some, glorious sailor."
<« I did father-^h I I did."*
''You looked at him — ^you looked at him
well — earnestly — did you not devour him with
your eyes?"
«' Father, I did,**
'' Was he not beautiful ? as a man, beautiful,
tall, straight, grand, superb, and so kindly-
looking, bewitching, Eugenia ?"
'' Glorious, angelic !''
** Worth a thousand flimsy foplings — worth
ten thousand such finical things as Sir Edward
Fortintower— d — ^n him !"
O pa ! and he^s a nice man too/'
Yes, yes I a nice man — I mean a nice man
VOL. I. N
266 JACK A8H0BE.
— but what is that in oompariaon with this
magnificent sailor ? Besides, this pooivspirited
wretdi, this Sir Edward, has but a bare five
hundred a year ; he is, for a man of his habits,
girl, poorer than the poorest beggar that
ever whimpered for the dole of charity. Never
think of him more, girl, but when you want a
comparison for something contemptible.**
'* He rejected me^ father*^
** He did — I have not forgotten it. Miss
Scrivener. Now this handsome sailor that you
so much admire— let us talk about him,Eugenia.
What about him do you admire most i^
^^0, pa, everything— his large, large blue
eyes, and his curly locks — so curly; and then the
pretty ringlets all a hanging down his ruddy
cheeks— and his mouth and teeth— did you ever
see such a sweet mouth and teeth, so almost
white, and which they would be but for the
nasty tobacco.**
** Go on — ^never — ^go on, I say.**
** And then his smile, O dear I I have read
a great many novels, fashionable ones too^ but
I never yet saw that smile described. Yet,
J ACS A€H«ms« 967
yet, pMf I don't lik« that nasty stiff* long pig-
tail.''
^' A trifle! well have it cut off.""
^* Geintneni crimmini ! I wish he'd let me T
^ He shall, by-and-bye, Eageoia, he shall P
^* Thank yoU) pa— I'm so glad^so happy 1
And then, his skin is so white— whiter than the
whitest alabaster, purer than the purest snow,
and I dare say, scoter than the softest down,
-4br I didn't touch it— I wish I had.""
Then said the lawyer, in the softest tones of
his voices ^ Eugenia, dear, should you like him
for a husband ?^
*^ O, father I" said the young kdy, holding
down her head, and covering her face with her
hands, ** just in that very voice you asked me
that very same question before, about another ;
and when 1 siud * yes,' you know how unhappy
it made us all/'
** Well, Eugenia, don't say * yes' till you
have heard what I have to say. This fine
sailor has suddenly become a baronet, of a
title much older than that of the mean-spirited
scoundrel who insulted us. This Jack, the tar,
k2
S68 JACK ASHORE.
is bow Sir John Truepenny, and possesses all
the vast wealth that formerly belonged, or was
supposed to belong, to the other. In worldly
affairs he is a child ; and I will be his father,
and you shall be his wife. We will, you and
I— mind I say you as well as I— will put him in
leading-strings, and do just as we like with
him."
*^ O my t how pure and pleasant I"
^* So it is, girl— but you must play your part
You must not act towards him as was proper to
act towards the proud Sir Edward. No Italian
music — ^no jargon about botany, and geology,
and that kind of rubbish. You need neither
draw, nor embroider, nor paint on velvet."
•« I'm so glad r
^ You must fall into your lover's ways. You
must not be shocked at his coarseness, and I
think, for a short time — only for a very short
ime — ^you must drink a little, and-^and swear a
UtUe."
*« O pa r'
** Little lady-like oaths^pretty little lisping
oathSf— only a sort of little a«b ab, infantine
/ACK A8H0RB. 269
Bweaiiug. I assure you, some Tery high
ladies do swear, and Queen Elizabeth swore,
and that roundly too.*'
"^ Well, father, 101 try. What shaU I begin
with?*
*^ Why, as thus. Should Sir John accost you
with some round spanking oath, as broad and
as black as the bottom of a frying-pan, you —
yes, you should answer, *Well, Sir John,
curse my eyes.*"
'* O father, horrible, horrible ! — I couldn't for
worlds.**
** Simpleton ! you are not to say it that way,
but mindngly, so that it may sound like * Kiss
my eyes;' and ten to one but Sir John bursts
out into a hoarse laugh» and kisses not only
your eyes, but your mouth also.*^
<* If that ain't dndl ! kiss my eyes !**
" Well done, girl, but you must do better
yet — ^for at present my meddling in this bud*
ness has not only cost me immense trouble,
time, labour, and Texation, but I am confound-
edly out of pocket into the bargain. When I
spoke of my expenses to that honest fool
S70 JACK ASUORB.
Singlebeert, be told me to send in my bill, aad
it should be paid immediately it was taxed-*
taxed ! the traitor to his profession I He well
knows that the master will never allow all my
outlay for this boat, the carriage and four, these
silken flags, and our splendid and luxurious
journey to Portsmouth. Indeed, as I acted
amicus non rqgatusj he may think all my trou<*
ble and outlay a work of supererogation, and not
give me a farthing, besides asking some awkward
questions. But you are not listening, Miss
Scrivener."
^ You were not talking of the delightful Sir
John, the sailor baronet.**
*' I was, miss, but your foggy brain can be
acted upon only by the senses. Whether you
comprehend me or not, I will talk, for it gives
me relief. I have no patience with you,
still less with that noodle Singleheart, not to
have advised Sir Edward to litigate. Con-
summate ass — what a glorious fat lawsuit ! —
would have lasted our joint lives. Such un-
heard of imbecility. Wish I could discover
another heir. I will try, by heavens ! No^ no
JAGK ASHORB. 271
— make the man ttanry the girl— the t«ry best
plan. BowerHnen, pat the boat to it» speed —
make it go a aea gallop, and keep us cfose to
that huge lumpy thing with the jaok-in^tbew
green over it. Now^ Eugenia dear, bow to Sir
John — now smile. By all that's hideous, that
fat beast has made him drunk already ; and
there is his infamous girl queening it like her
majesty of Sheba. Never mind, Eugenia, kiss
your hand to him, for see he notices you. By
all the horrors of a long vacation, he is going to
make a speech, and he can't stand. My good
woman, don't abuse us, we don't know you —
we are gentlefolks, and friends of Sir John —
take care of his worship — hold him down, or
he'll be overboard — heavens and earth I there
he is over !— how the marine animal snorts and
swims I"
Jack had fallen or flung himself overboard,
.and was striking out for Miss Scrivener, who
was screaming in the agony of her alarm for
his safety. But Mrs. Snowdrop and Poll were
not so easily to lose their prey — they caught
him by the collar of his jacket, and whilst he
273 JACK AsaoBS*
was being hauled again into the bum-boat,
Polly cuffed his ears most soundly, nor did she
cease when he was placed in his seat— and there
he sat, dull, stupid, cold, wet, and almost cry-
ing drunk. Alas ! poob Jack I
JACK A8HOBX. 273
CHAPTER XVIII.
Jack's ashore— Most triumphant doings — Depatations of the
tribes go forth to meet him— He is half lulled with kind*
ness— The law at a discount* and honesty not yet at par
— A lawyer's soliloquy.
As Jack approached the landing-^place at the
Point at Portsmouth, the crowd of boats became
enormous. Everything that could be pulled
or paddled) went out to meet and bring him in
triumphantly. All that was low, and black-
guard, and poverty-stricken — all that was im-
pudent, and extortionate, and cheating — all who
practised fraud, whether by cunning or vio-
lence, were ready to welcome him. It was the
saturnalia of Jews, rogues, and ladies with the
name not to be mentioned to ears polite.
It was with difficulty that the large bum-
N 6
374 JACK ASHORE.
boat that contained the immortal Jack could
penetrate through the crowd of crafty and gain
the beach. This was at length effected. It
was now about four o'clock in the afternoon,
and most of the respectable inhabitants had
drawn together, keeping at some distance from
the dense crowd, to witness the motley scene.
Sir John Truepenny, at last, with ^staggering
gait, blinking eyes, and wonder-stricken coun-
tenance, supported on either hand by the
Amazonian Poll and the burly bum-boat
woman, stepped on shore. Then arose the
deafening shout of ^* the most sweet voices" oT
the Portsmouth mob. The very air became
rank with their breaths, converted into horrible
tumult.
No sooner was Jack fairly ashore, than no
less than forty*nine hooked-nose, kennel-coun-
tenanced sons of Israel made a dead and most
ferocious set at our hero. No hungry wolves
of the desert ever flung themselves more fiercely
upon the toil-conquered steed, than did these
harpies of avarice on our stupified John. It
was all but a miracle that Jack did not then
JACK ASRDRB. 975
and there terminate his eventful history. He
almost met the fate of Orpheus from the Thra«
csan women, that of being torn limb from Iimb«
Of course, only some dozen of these forty«>nine
Jews could lay hands upon poor Jack, but
those who could not touch him encircled the
others, and thus, at first, prevented a rescue.
Stout as was Mrs. Snowdrop, and courageous
and active, as well as stout, as was Poll, they
were thrust aside with as little difficulty as a
strong man finds in turning a child from
his path. Presently, however, they rallied
the boatmen, and after a short but desperate
conflict the tribes were beaten oflp, threatening
all manner of actions and damages, and Jack
again found himself in custody of the party
that had brought him ashore. But he was
hurt and bruised, and his clothes torn to
tatters.
Amidst the hootings, huszaings, and yells,
they had advanced some yards from the beach,
and here another difficulty arose. The getters-
up and the supporters of all these testimonies
of joy had no idea of being glad gratis. Those
276 JACK A8H0RB.
in the boats, especially, who had made the
pageant out to Spithead^ looked for remunera-
tion, and they became clamorous {(X it. Jack
was willing to be generous so far as his ability
permitted, so he pulled from his pocket those
of the guineas that had not dropped into the
sea when he fell overboard ; but to this pro-
ceeding the two ladies put in a vigorous wio*
Mrs. Snowdrop told the applicants that they
must look to those who had hired them, or in-
duced them to go on what she was now pleased to
term their fool's errand. Now this person
turned out to be Mr. Scrivener, who had, or
the men of his boat, in the exhilaration of the
moment, said that which almost amounted to a
promise of payment. ^^ Look to the lawyers,''
was now the cry ; and to them they looked
accordingly — they did more — they began to
pelt them ; and, not being in the mind to discri-
minate, both Mr. Scrivener and Mr. Singleheart
were obliged to trust for their safety from further
violence to a rapid retreat, each of them covered
with filth.
Mr. Singleheart had endeavoured to keep as-
JACK A8UOEE. 277
close to his client as he could, in order to rescue
him from the claws of the vultures that had
determined to make him their prey. What
Mr. Scrivenei^s motives were, we well know.
Both, however, were beaten off the field;
and it was owing solely to the beauty and
the elegant dress of Miss Scrivener, that she
found protection from a superior naval o£Bcer,
after she had been forced from her father in the
fray. This gentleman conveyed her in safety
to her hotel.
By this time, the crowd had much increased,
and the commotion became general, — ^a state of
things not to be suffer^ in a well-govemed gar-
risoned town. A posse of constables was assem-
bled, and, assisted by a captain^s guard of marines,
the crowd was dispersed, and Jack, or rather
Jack*s custodiers, were at length free agents.
Mrs. Snowdrop wished to convey Sir John
to her own house at Portsea. This was strenu-
ously opposed by Poll ; but as she had no
house of her own, it was finally settled, for that
night, that they should go to ^^ that tavern,** to
use her own language, *^ where the midship-
278 JACK ASHORE.
men leaves their chestesses when they can't
pay for their breakfastesses-^she meant the Blue
Postesses.*^
This was assented to, and to the Blue Posts
they accordingly went, now accompanied by
Susan, who, dispirited, broken-hearted, and
ashamed of her position, of her mother, and
herself, asked permission to retire to the ma-
ternal abode. This was peremptorily refused ,
and she was thus compelled to be an inmate
with the rest of her party. Two constables
were placed at the door of the tavern, to prevent
intrusions and keep off the crowd ; and Sir John
Truepenny, very sick, with a dreadful head-
ache, much bruised and hurt, was undressed
by Mary Macannister, and, on the first day of
his glory, put to bed at about four o'clock in the
afternoon.
Let us return to Sir Edward Fortintower,
who was ruminating alone in his hotel. He
had just finished a long letter to Miss Ann
Truepenny, in which he had detailed all the
remarkable proceedings of the day. In spite
of the applauding testimony of his own con**
JAGS ASHOBX, 279
sdence, that he had done that which was just
and gentlemanly* his spirits were dreadfully de-
pressed. It was not that he feared poverty,
but he feared that he should not bear it grace*
fully. With economy, as a single man, he
could still keep up appearances ; but the vital
question now with him was, how his engage-
ment with the heiress was to be regarded. His
fortune he had resigned, but not without a great
struggle. Was he equal to the higher self-de-
votion, the loftier magnanimity, of relinquishing
his beloved ? He felt that he was not ; if it
was his destiny to lose her, he would submit as
he might, but he was determined not to be
accessory to his own misery. In thus reason-
ing, he always considered her immense fortune
as an integral part of herself.
In the midst of these painful reflectiond, the
honest lawyer made his appearance, in a plight
in which no honest man ought to be seen. He
bad upon his person a specimen of every va-
riety of Portsmouth filth. His hat, to use a
poet's expression, was multiform, his coat was
rent, and the rims of his eyes were very care-
280 JACK ASHOBX*
fully plaBtered with mud. As Mr. Singleheart
entered with a laugh upon his begrimed coun-
tenance. Sir Edward did not hesitate to give
vent to the merriment that his friend's ludicrous
appearance excited. Indeed, his presence was
just then a great relief — ^in the midst of all his
sorrows, Sir Edward had not yet been pelted*
** Come, lawyer, open your case — state your
plea."
^< Let me first go up to my room, and make
myself fit to appear in court. Have dinner and
a couple of bottles of claret ready, and we will
charge them to the expenses incurred in re Sir
John Truepenny^s debarkation. I wish to come
into court with clean hands.'^ So expanding his
very dirty ones, he disappeared for a time.
The friends did not again meet until a late
dinner, after which Mr. Singleheart gave Sir
Edward a very humorous detail of the whole
scene, *' But I donH much cai^e," he continued ;
^* for that wily scoundrel. Scrivener, got it
much worse than myself. It would have made
your sad heart merry to have heard how vehe-
mently he disclaimed his profession. * Thaf s
JACK A8HOBB. 281
the bwjer» on my honour he i%^ said he point-
ing to the humble individual who is talking to
you— but it would not do— he bad» in gome
manner, encouraged the vagabonds to make
this fu8% and they swore they would have it
out of him. They have permanently blackened
both his eyes, and his face was covered with
Uood from his broken nose. Many of the
villains seemed quite struck that a lawyer*s
blood should be as red as an honest man's — at
least, so they said. But what to do with my
client, I know not. He is very drunk now^
and therefore anything he may sign will have
no legal effect Besides, he promised me^ on
the honour of a seaman, that he would never
sign a paper without consulting me. I believe
he will keep hisword.**
** I think he will — I am sure he will," said
Sir Edward thoughtfully.
'^ Now this is as fit a case for a statute of
lunacy as any I ever met with. You are next
of kin, Sir Edward. What do you think of
it?'
'^ You cannot be serious. The liberty of the
282 JACK ABHOXS;
subject extends to the privilege of getting in-
toxicated, and we must appeal from Philip
drunk to Philip sober. I think that, to-mor-
row morning, both we and Jack himself will
see Sir John Truepenny in a new light"
** I hope so— I fervently hope so» No soli-
citor could administer his ai&urs without re-
proach, were he more just than Aristides^
should my client continue this line of con-
duct."
*' He will not — most assuredly he will not.
Let him marry any decent person, and my lady
will soon make a gentleman of Sir John. Let
him marry.''
^* Marry — amen — and with all my heart.
This is the very match for which the True-
penny family have denied themselves for so
many generations."
*^ Ah ! do I understand you ?**
*^ I hope so ; for ultimately it will be for
your good. If you were the eligible person for
whom to resuscitate, by purchase, this dormant
or expired peerage^ how much more eligible is
this sailor baronet ! He is nearer to the True-
JACK ASHOES. SS83
pennys ki Uood — and, above all, he has the
baronial estates.^
^ But his pcevious low life-*^
^ Six months in London, a daAidngnnaster,
and a tailor; or the tailor akme.**
'^ His almost total want of education—"
** He knows how to write his name : what
need has a lc»rd to know more?''
** But then his rough and salt-sea mannars —
do you think the gentle, quiet, and mild Miss
Ann could ever tolerate them ?*
^ Can't tell — like him, perhaps, the better for
them.''
" His rolling gait."
" His superb person."
<* His habits of drinking."^
*< His handsome face.**
^^ I verily believe that he chews tobacco."
*^ Oh, she'll make him leave that off whenever
shelikes.''
" You a£Rection*m<mger, you have married
them already.^
*' Not I, indeed. They will marry fast
enough without my assistance ; that is to say,
284 JACK ASHORE.
if the deaf old geDtlemen wishes it ; and I am
afraid, my dear Sir £dward, that wish it he
wilL Why has he lived so far beyond the
usual boundary of life — living on in that worst,
that most appalling of silences, the silence of
deafiiess?—- the few words that he ever utters,
are to the effect, that he is weary and would be
at rest — and that he lives only for the fulfil-
ment of his ancestor's wish. It is awful to look
upon that deaf old man ; and still more awfiil
to contemplate his one unchanging, indomitable
sentiment — which alone keeps him living, and
for which alone he Uves. He will make them
marry.
^ Never— -I have a trust in Ann's affection ;
it has been, heart and soul, bestowed on me-*
that she never can transfer to a rough, low-bred
seaman.**
*^ Say not what she can do until that low,
rough-bred seaman has been six. months on
shore. My dear friend, do your best to gain
her, and expect the worst. Nerve up your
gallant heart to act now as you ever have done
your next step be as honourable as your
JACK A8H0BX. 286
last Enow, Sir Edward, that I am opposed
to jou. M J professional duty must be done,
though it should bring me with sorrow to an
untimelj grave. I must not only advise my
client to this match, but do my best to bring it
to a happy issue. Cheer upi my friend*''
"This from your
" I will, if it will make you happy, resign
my appointment immediately ; but as Sir John's
solicitor, I know my duty, and that duty you
must respect. All may yet be weU.**
** I do respect you— I do respect your duty.
Finish the wine yourself. Grood night**
" No, no, d — ^n it — hey— what, swearing I
We'll resign, Edward, hey ? No, my dear son,
let us resign, and go up to town to-morrow by
the first coach* There, fill your glass. That's
settled.**
^* By no manner of means. I cannot let my
new-found relation be a prey to all the sharks
and vermin of this place. He would immedi-
ately Ml into the harpy hands of Scrivener. I
will stay here a few days longer, and be you
his friend for my sake. Grood night.** .
286 JACK ASHOBE.
Sir Edward wrung Mr. Singleheart^s band,
and departed, as he aaidi to rest
*< Welly'" said the lawyer, when he found
himself alone, ^' it is good to soliloquise* The
habit is a useful one. But let as see that the
doors are all fast If men would oftener solilo-
quize, they would be all the better ibr it
Thinkii^, it won't do. Give it out boldly as I
do, thus. See how your actions appear in liv-
ing words — words that another man might use.
See how you like that Have I done rightly ?
do I purpose to do rightly ? I think I da
Here are a bottle and a half of claret-— let us
argue the point ; and one of them shall be my
antagonist. Not the half-empty one— no— I
will not be opposed so weakly. The full one
is most likely to overcome me. Now stand
there, and do your worst — ^in the mean time, I
shall take a glass out of your ' brother. Now
go on, sir. You say, or you would say if you
could, ^ Is it just or generous, that you should
Urge forward this noble young man» your dear
friend too, first to resign a splendid fortune,
which, by your assistance, he might have still
JACK A8H0RB. 287
retained many years, and, in the mean time, the
upstart claimant might have drunk himself to
death with his attorney, out of mere vexation,
or been carried off in a rapid atrophy at the
law^s delay. Answer roe that, master.**
*^ Well opened, Mr. Longcork — ^your case is
well opened ; but let me open you yourself, for
your speech was so long, that whilst you were
prating, I have silently extracted all that was
good from out your companion. Why, I de-
dare you have more strength, more vivacity,
and more good in you, than your empty brother.
You deserve the best answer that I can give you,
and you shall have it It will be short though.
All the amiability, and all the virtue that one
man possibly could possess, ought not to deprive
another of his just rights. It is a case in which
friendship can do nothing. The moment friend-
Anp consents to do a dirty action, even to serve
its object, it is friendship no more, and nothing
but a conspiracy between two villains. What
think you of that. Master Narrowneck ? It
deserves a glass of your blood, that answer
does.— Now for your next charge; you see,
288 JACK ASHORE.
though yon are dwindling apace, I am not yet
overcome. Go on, lift up your head like a
man, and speak up, or the jury won't be able
to hear you. You say that mine are very fine
sentiments, and carry with them, on that point,
a show of right ; but why need I go out of my
way, and come between mutual affection ? A
lawyer is not a marriage-broker. What has
law to do with the nicer feelings of the heart, or
any nice feelings at all ? Marriage is a holy
ceremony, a moral contract of the highest
order; when it is contracted from mercenary
considerations, it is nothing better than a legal
prostitution. — You stole that last senti-
ment, Mr. Greencoat, so you must pay the
plagiarist's forfeit — the lower it gets, the more
relishing is your spirit You ask me, as a
closer, why not stick rigidly to your professional
duty, and leave marriage to the loves, graces,
opportunity, and the parson.^''
** Now for my answer : as I see the case is
nearly closed, and you insist so much upon my
sticking to my professional duty, I will oblige
you, and extract all that you have, by the way.
JACK ASHORE. 289
and in the name of legal fees. There, you are
as empty now as my blue bag used to be ; and
there is so little solidity in you that I can see
quite through you. You find what you have
come to^ by commencing a suit with a lawyer.
As you are quite cleaned out, I might put you
out of court at once ; but still, I will put in
my answer to your last demurrer. Marriage I
acknowledge to be a solemn ordinance ; but as,
in all contracts for this ceremony, earthly things
must have a consideration, it is my duty to my
client to tell him that such or such a marriage
would have such and such legal and worldly
beneficial consequences — that a certain alliance
would better his real estate, and would be at*
tended with such and such temporal advantages
-—but to bring about such a marriage is alto*
gether another affair-— but I donH see quite so
clearly as usual — I have gained my cause, and
if I can only gain my bed as cleverly .
He did, with the assistance of the waiter.
VOL. [• o
990 JACK ASHOBK.
a.
CHAPTEB XIX.
P0II7 politicil-- Does the gracious and the grand, and bocrowft
monej with all the nonchalance of a lady of qualitj*-Jack
grows dignified, and a judge of music, and a little more
sober and sensibfo— A lawyer at a nonplue— Makes a no-
tion, and takes noUiing by iL
Whilst Sir Joha Truepenny was sleeping off
the fumes of bis brandy, Foil and Mrs. Snow-
drop had arranged between them a hollow truce.
Poor Susan, shocked and bewildered, was forced
to dress herself in bridal white. Felly did the
same, being promptly supplied with all required
finery from the ready<*made stores of this ex-
tortionate place. She was never before so well
dressed, and, in spite of the superfluity of rib-
JACK ASHOSS. 291
boDs and artificial flowers, looked» in the sailor^B
eye at least, bewitching.
The august two determined to do nothing
important u.itil next day, excepting the in-
'viting oi their mutual friends to a grand
supper, each lady asking an equal number of
guests. When the landlord was sent for, and
ordered to do his possible to produce the best
feast that the place afforded, or that money
could purchase, he demurred, without having
first the cash to purchase it with. ** If,'* he
said, ^ he had any more respect for any one living
person (and that was impossible) than he had
for Mrs. Snowdrop, it was for Miss Macannis-
ter ; indeed, he should always have said that
there was not a more respected person living
than Miss Macannister, had it not been for
Mrs. Snowdrop ; and if he honoured any per-
son more than either, that person was Sir John
Truepenny. But yet, there had been such things
as hoaxes. He was, comparatively speaking, a
poor man — ^his house was used mostly by young
gentlemen— and he saw their money much less
o2
292 JACK ASHORE.
often than their faces. Some ready cash was,
therefore, indispensable/'
** Low fellow !" said Mrs. Snowdrop, tossing
her head disdainfully. " Here, Sue, go up to
my lord barrownight'^s room, and bring down a
handful of guineas out of his lordship's
pocket."
<^ Stand back, hussy ! No one shall go into
my Jack's room but myself," said Poll.
Just then it was not prudent to argue this
all-important point. So Polly went, and returned
with only about ten or twelve guineas. It was
all that she could find. For these, the landlord
held out his hand, and shook his head at the
same time.
" This will not go far," said he, coolly
pocketing the ^old ; « it will, however, give
you the supper, and pay for the hire of the
rooms. For how many did you say, ladies?"
" Thirty at least ; and, as we intend to be
very genteel, let there be three fiddles and
plenty of rum-flip," said Mrs. Snowdrop.
«« And, d'ye hear, landlord ? none of yer
JACK ASHORE. 293
logins in the sallatt — ^it's vastly low," said
Polly, looking all manner of superiorities at
Mrs. Snowdrop.
'* But what are we to do to raise the wind.
Miss Macannister ?^* said the elder lady.
^' Advance Jack a few of your dirty hun-
dreds.''
'^ With all the pleasure in life, my dear ;
but no one knows where they are stowed away
but myself, and I can't leave the dear fellow."
" Then send to some of the Jews — they'll
lend fast enough/'
Now Mrs. Snowdrop being herself a Chris-
tian Jewess — for those said so to whom she had
ever lent money or given credit — knew all the
peril of Jew dealings.
** No, madam, she replied, " with your per-
mission I must tell you, that if once you get
the Jews in, they will get us all out.^
" Well," said Poll, " to show you I am not
afraid to leave my Jack, I'll just step out my-
self, — just give us your fist upon it, that you'll
let me in again. I know how to get the mo-
pusses."
294 JACK ASHORE*
tc
As you loTe Jack and yourself, donH go to
his lawyer I*^
** PolFs not so green — no, no-*-not quite so
spooney.**
So« putting on her new white satin bonnet,
with all the pride of a Roxalana, she passed
into the street She who» but a few days be-
fore, would haTe been glad if a common Jack
bad accosted her, looked superciliously at raid,
shipmen, passed lieutenants with disdain, and
disputed the pave with post captains. But Poll
was as shrewd as she was vain. She determined
to strike at once, and boldly. She soon found
out one of those agents who abounded in the
sea*ports in the times of war and much prise-
money, and bade him procure a license for her
marriage with Sir John immediately, telling
him not to regard expense, but tima
She had h^ard enough to make her compre-
hend that Mr. Scrivener wished to be mixed
up with Sir John^s afiairs, for she knew that
it was he who had set all these grand doings in
motion. She easily found out his hotel, and was
readily admitted to him, though he was in a situ-
JACK A8H0EB. V95
ation but little adapted to recehre company.
A surgeon had just taken his depart ure, after
having lanced the learned gentleman under his
eyes, in order to put them at once into half-
mourning only. His nose was swollen ; and be
was still bathing his face when Polly made her
appearance.
Eugenia Elfrida had changed her dress, and,
but little moved by her father's afflictions, was
dividing her atten(ioD pretty equally upon the
flies who were kmxsking their silly heads against
the panes of glass, and the idle military and
naval vanities that were strutting up and down
High«-street. Notwithstanding this profitable
occupation, Eugenia was wondering — she always
was wondering — whether Jack had got sober —
what he was doing — and how he would look, if
dressed in the usual costume of a gentleman.
Then again she wondered if Jack liked her —
and she wondered still more intensely if he
would have her for his wife; Cor, after her former
disappointment, she did not place too much re-
Uance upon the paternal promise.
<< O, Sir John's friend, I see,'* said Mr.
296 JACK ASHOEE.
Scrivener, dabbing away with the wet lint
under his eyes. *' What can I do for you, ma-
damr
" If you pleaae, sir, ^sposing that you be my
Jack's friend — Jack has sent me^ sir," — (PoUy
could lie like a diplomatist upon fitting occa-
sions) — ** Jack has sent me, sir, with his duty
to ye, and wants the loan like of a fistful of
guineas or so.''
** Does he indeed ? The worthy Sir John !
He may command any sum he thinks fit to ask
for. No man should I be more proud and more
happy to serve than Sir John Truepenny. A
man of infinite merit, madam, and of great taste
also — he knows how to choose his friends. His
friends, of course, must be mine. What would
you choose to take — ^sherry, madeira ?^
" Why, sir, as you're so purlite — a go of g^n
and bitters ; not that I want any gemman to
treat me, now Jack's come to his own — but
merely out of purliteness, and to show good
breeding ; — so let's have the go !*
« Waiter, go for some gin and bitters.'*
" How much, sir ?"
JACK ASHORE. 297
<c
A go, you spooney ! Come, tramp with
your dishclout, you fiddle-faced, dog^robbing,
trencher-scraper. Beg pardon, sir, but you
see, as I shall soon have servants of my own,
I am just practising a little."
'^ Exactly, madam. Practice makes perfect,
as the saying is : not that there is any want of
perfection in the person I have thd honour of
speaking to. How much does my friend Sir
John require ?"
" Why, a hundred will do for the present;"
and she held out her willing hand. But Mr.
Scrivener explained to her, that in these trans-
actions a few forms were necessary ; and that,
great as was his affection for Sir John, the ad-
vance could not be made without an interview
with him, and an acknowledgment with his
signature attached to it.
" Would Sir John do him the inexpressible
honour of calling upon him ?'*
That was totally out of the question. Poll
was also unwilling that the lawyer should come
to Jack ; but the money was absolutely neces-
sary, the more especially when she thought of
o5
298 JACK A8H0K£«
the grand doings that she contemplated for the
morrow ;-**so, receiving Mr. Scrivener's promise
that he would be with them in the course of an
hour. Poll, making three low curtseys to Miss
Scrivener, who returned the salutation with
what she conceived the fashionable bob of the
head to an inferior, Poll withdrew, muttering^
as she went down stairs, ^* Painted wax-work !
finical moppet T*
But Poll had other very imp<N*tant business
to transact, the nature of which will soon tran-
spire ; so that it was nearly eight oVlock before
she had returned to the Blue Posts. In the
mean time, Mr. Scrivener had called twice, and
sent up his card each time ; but admittance had
been refused to him, through the agency of the
wily bumboat woman.
Jack's slumber had been most refreshing and
salutary' to him, and he arose about six o^clock,
perfectly sober, and as eager for food as a
famished wolf. By slow degrees he began to
comprehend his present position, and shortly
came to the very just conclusion tliat he had
been a most egregious ass. Before he could
dress himself, he was forced to send for a slop-
JACK ASHORE. 299
seller, bo torn and soiled did he find the clothes
that be had put on, almost new, that day.
He descended into the best apartment, and
had to resist all the blandishments and the
brandy of Mrs. Snowdrop, and, what was much
more diiBcult, the timid sensitiveness and
conscious blushes of her bridal-arrayed daugh-
ter. At first Jack swore stoutly that he
would not be gammoned — that he had given
Poll his word — and that to splice with her was
no more than doing his duty as an able sea-
man. But even whilst making these protesta-
tions, he had insensibly drawn towards Susan ;
and as he finished by saying, ** Might the
devil fly away with him down Mount Stroow
bolo, if he would not marry Poll the moment
she asked him,'* his arm was round Susan's
waist, and a kiss was heard as loud as a north*
easter whistling through the weather topsail
sheet block.
At this moment Poll herself entered the
room, with face flushed and fire in her eyes.
Great was the clamour that ensued. She would
have flown upon the meek, unresisting Susan,
300 JACK ASHOBE.
had not the powerful bulk of the bumboat
woman interposed, and the strong arm of Jack
restrained.
^* Poll,^' said Sir John authoritatively, ^^ as
sure as bogs are bogs, I'll wop you into a
mummy if you are not quiet, and don't behave
like a lady.*
Poll had nothing left her but to burst into
tears, make moving speeches about Mrs. Snow-
drop's treachery, the artfulness of her tater-
faced dump of a daughter, and Jack's deceit-
fulness. Jack's initiation into rank and fortune
was not remarkably pleasant
In the midst of this passion of tenderness
and rage, Mr. Scrivener was again announced.
Mrs. Snowdrop had already ordered ^^ the thief
of a lawyer'' to be bundled out, when Polly,
recovering herself wonderfully, countermanded
the order, and a short consultation ensued,
which made Jack aware of the present state of
his finances. Our hero began to see how
the land lay, and was determined not to be
altogether a dupe. He therefore took care to
conceal from every body what Sir Edward had
JACK ASHORE. 301
told him respecdng the two thousand pounds
in his name at the Portsmouth bank, and was
determined slily to observe how all parties
worked their ships.
At length Mr. Scrivener was admitted. Jack,
being determined to receive him with aristo-
cratic dignity, placed himself in an arm-chair
in the centre of the room, with his natty straw
hat on, cocked sapiently on one side, with a
very long clay pipe in his mouth, which he
held out pompously with one hand, whilst
resting on the elbow of the chair was the other,
containing a glass of cold water. Between his
l^s, on the floor, was a three-cornered spittoon,
and he sent forth the smoke from his pipe in
long and measured volumes. Jack only eyed
the water askance; but that was enough — it
was emblematical pf his resolved sobriety. At
his right hand sate Mrs. Snowdrop, her chair
overflowing with her vast proportions, with her
arms crossed in all the dignity of the future
mother of the baronet. Poll had caught the
infection of pomp and privilege, and played
her part of magnificence by sitting bolt and
302 ja<:k ashore.
stiflSy upright in her chair, and flinging her
head so much back, that nothing of her face
was visible, excepting the tip of her chin. No
man coming to lend a hundred pounds was
ever received with so much hautettr.
All the length of one side of the room, the
tables were spread and arranged for the accom*
modatioQ of thirty guests. We make no men-
tion of Susan, as she was not visible ; having
seated herself modestly behind Mrs. Snowdrop,
she was totally eclipsed by the maternal rotun-
dity.
Now, when the door was opened to admit
Mr. Scrivener, two one-legged fiddlers, leading
a blind brother of the bow, took this opportu-
nity to make their ingress, accompanied by one
who tortured a bass viol — base in every sense:
a man with a barrelled organ also attempted
entrance, but not having been bidden, he was
tumbled down stairs by the waiters.
The musidaners, as Poll called them, being
duly impressed with awe^ quietly filed ofi*, and
placed themselves upon stools, which they
knew intuitively to be meant for them.
JACK ASHOKE* SOS
When this little bustle bad subsided, with a
green shade over bis eyes, a smile of fascination
on his countenance, and his hand extended for
shaking, Mr. Scrivener advanced towards the
awful trio. But Jack impeded his progress by
a truly Jovian wave of his piped head, and,
exclaiming ** God save the King," prepared to
listen with all the dignified composure of the
critic, and all the conscious dignity of the
master of the coming feast. Not waiting for
any superfluous tuning — vain laboinr I — ^* with
an obedient start/' the four cracked instru-
ments ran a race in the national anthem, which
was won, by some bars, by the blind catgut
vexer.
Jack pronounced that it wasgood, but hardly
loud enough ; Mrs. Snowdrop and Polly were
chary in their approbation «^ both saying at
once, the musicianers might have done better.
. But the disappointed lawyer was not yet
permitted to speak. His opening speech was
cut short by Jack demanding ^* Rule Britan-
nia," which was accordingly played, and the
defects mentioned in the last essay of the mu-
304 JACK A8U0EE.
sicians strenuously remedied. The glasses on
the table seemed to dance with the loudness of
the horrid discordance. Jack and the ladies
expressed themselves satisfied.
Mr. Scrivener now attempted to advance,
but Jack met him with a repelling frownt and
stopped him by a gesture.
" Sir John Truepenny !" said the lawyer from
the middle of the room, and making one step
forward.
•• Avast I heave to. What ship, a-hoy ? A
Russian, I 'spose, by the green colours you
show ?"
** An Englishman like yourself. Sir John."
*^ Then down with your deadlights, show
your papers, whence from, where bound to ?
name, tonnage^ and lading ?**
Now, as Jack uttered all this with a gruff
harsh voice, and as there was not a ray of
pleasantry either in look or manner, Mr. Scri-
vener was taken as flat a-back as was ever a
square-rigged vessel in a squall. Many of the
questions thus showered upon him he could not
answer* because he could not comprehend them*
JACK ASHORE. 305
He was more confused than if he had been con-
victed in a lie under a severe cross-examination.
The wicked Jack enjoyed this extremely.
But a mild and not unmusical voices that
was positively a treat of harmony after the
fiddles and Sir John's harsh tones, arose from
behind Mrs. Snowdrop^s chair —
'^ I beg your pardon, sir, but I believe Sir
John Truepenny don't like the shade over your
eyes, and is merely inquiring your name and
business in his own pleasant way."
Mr. Scrivener made a very low bow to Mrs.
Snowdrop, who drew herself up accordingly.
**' Sir John*s pleasant manner — hum—- thepillory
— hot summer^s day, and eggs in a state of
transition — ^never yet thought over-pleasant,**
said the lawyer.
** Tried 'em ?" said Jack, without moving a
muscle.
" I ! hey— God bless me — what do you
mean? This shade, Sir John, I received in your
service. If you have already forgotten it, my
name is Simon Scrivener, and it is owing to me
that you are now Sir John Truepenny. My
306 JACK ASHORE.
business here is coining, at your request^ to lend
you a hundred pounds, which I shall have
much fdeasure in doing, if you will but
grant me a little civility and a small portion of
your friendship."
*-Very well, Mr. Simon Snitcher — all fair
and above-board — tip us the rhino.'* But Jack
was still as grave as a judge.
^'My dear, facetious Sir John,^ said Scri-
vener, growing bolder, ** there are a few cere-
monies to be observed.'* And he then wished
to make terms with him for future employment ;
but Jack was immovable — he would not even
sign an acknowledgment, or give bim a receipt
for the money. He remembered his promise
to Mr. Singleheart, not to put pen to paper
without his sanction, and that promise he was
determined religiously to keep.
The two ladies saw and heard this with dis-
may, but Jack was obstinate; and now the
only resource was for Mrs. Snowdrop to give
security for the money, which the lawyer,
knowing her wealth, very willingly accepted.
A canvass bag containing nineteen guineas and
JACK A8HOXK* 907
eighty pounds in bank-notes was then put into
Jack's capacious hands* which he thrust with
the nonchalance of a great man into his pocket.
For this advance of one hundred pounds, Mrs.
Snowdrop had accepted a bill for one hundred
and thirty pounds at thiee months, the lawyer
charging, as be said, only ten per cent for in-
terest, and giving the gold at its market-
able price of thirty shillings each for the
guineas.
After many vain attempts on the part of Mr.
Scrivener to do the gracious, and recommend
himself, Jack unceremoniously told him to make
himself scarce^ as several ladies and gentlemen
were expected who could not abide low com-
pany. So Mr. Scrivener prepared to go,
gaining nothing by his motion but a little usury.
" Play him out r aaid Sir John, with a tone
of voice not to be disobeyed. The fiddlers
trembled to thdr very elbows, and the bass
viol groaned in dismay.
** What tune, please your honour ?^ said the
blind musician, who, not being under the terrors
308 JACK ASHORE.
of Jack^s frown^ still had the command of
speech.
** The rogue^s march.*'
Under the complimentary flourish of catgut
Mr. Scrivener withdrew, not wonderfully satis-
fied either with his reception or his dismissal.
The taking of a sight had not yet prevailed,
at least not in the present classical coster-
monger style; but Jack, laying aside his baronial
dignity as the lawyer retreated, made an in-
telligible action of contempt, equal to the
modern method of expressing derision, and very
far superior to it in energy and drollery. To
use a favourite phrase in our line of writing,
** It may be conceived, but it cannot be ex-
pressed."
From the decided tone of Jack's conduct, it
was now very evident that himself would take
the lead. He began with rowing Mrs. Snow-
drop for having made him drunk — which pleased
Poll ; and then he turned upon Poll, and rowed
her for having permitted him to be made
drunk — which pleased Mrs. Snowdrop. He
JACK ASHORE. 309
then criticised Poll's dress with a Petruchio-
like severity^ and looked so sternly, and swore
so astoundingly, that she was quite vanquished,
and stood trembling before him. He next
found fault with all the arrangements of the
tables, summoned the landlord and all his ser-
vants, male and female, damned them as a
parcel of the greatest lubbers that ever wished
to impose their low ways upon a man of rank and
fashion, and proceeded to instruct them in their
own business. Everything was removed, even
to the saltcellars. After plates, decanters,
and wine-glasses had been placed in every con-
ceivable position, Si^ John expressed himself
satisfied. He next abused his band, complained
that they could not play loudly enough, and
then ordered an augmentation of drums, fifes,
and clarionets, and the Scotch bag^pipes.
When he had terrified every one into silence,
he strutted a turn or two up and down the room,
broke his pipe across the head of the landlord,
who was in the act of making him a low bow, took
a deliberate aim at a painted and glazed coloured
print of a midshipman in full uniform, with bis
310 JACK ASHORE.
untouched glass of water, and sumshed botb^
exclaiming, '^By the great gutis of the Old
Glory, I'll let the lubbers hnow that Jack's
Ashore !''
END OF VOL. I.
LONDON :
IBOTaON AND PALMIR» FRINTIM, SAVOY tTltCT, 8T1IAK9.
JACK ASHORE
VOL. II.
BY THE SAME AUTHOR.
Lately published in 3 vols, 'post 8vo.,
OUTWARD BOUND;
OR,
A MERCHANT'S ADVENTURES.
By the Author of
Rattlin thb Reifer/' *' Jack Ashore," &c.
1$
OPINIONS OF THE PRESS.
" This is by far the best written and most interesting of the
novels this author has produced. It is replete with graphic
description and well-portrayed character, as well as highly
exciting as a tale of the sea." — Courier,
" The scenes on shipboard in ibis romance of the sea are
not exceeded in vividness and excitement by the best pas-
sages of the best works of the class." — Court Journal,
" This new nautical novel is of such enchaining interest,
thaat when once begun it is impossible to leave it off till we
re'ch the end." — Caledonian Mercury »
* This work will most decidedly class with the best speci-
mens of the nautical school of imaginative writings. The
story is full of interest, and teeming with variety." — Weekly
Chronicle,
** We have never read a more exciting nautical romance."
— Tyne Mercury,
JACK ASHORE.
BY THE AUTHOR OF
* RATTLIN THE REEFER," " OUTWARD BOUND,'
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LONDON :
HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER,
GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
1840.
LONDON :
IB0T80N AND PAJLMBRy PRINTXM,
8AVOY aTRBET, STRAND.
CONTENTS
OP THE SECOND VOLUME.
Cbaptkb I.-»It a long and momentoat one, embracing the
principal things for which' man and woman eziBt— >IoTing,
feeding, and fighting— It touchea also upon Beven mortal
aina, and contains seven immortal morale— The former
apparent, the latter but darklj shadowed out— Sin is so
much more easily achieyed than morality . • Page 1
Chaptbb n«— -Specimen of correspondence worthy of the
elegant letter-writer— A landlord, like a stork, judged by
the length of his bill^-the bill not so lucky as Giles
Grimm, the latter being discharged— The light of other
days goes out for a time— by keeping in . .44
Chapter III« — Jack emerges from obscurity gloriously —
Hints for making pageants and getting up proce8tion»^A
barber's ode— Pride and profundity— The pomps and Tanities
of this wicked world displayed, end something else . 59
VI CONTENTS.
Chapter IV^ — Replete with grand events — A battle right
royal, and right royally foagbt — Vse victia ! ** Vain pomp
and glory of the world, I hate ye !" — A marriage ceremony
unceremoniously performed— The marriage feast, and other
important matters • . . .80
Cbaptbr V. — The bumboat woman and the lawyer — Jack's
wedding-day — finds himself not without comforters on the
pitiful eyent— The gentle bride's gentle anticipations»-A
long lecture on dignity of conduct and refinement of deport-
mentj with much other useful sermonising . . 92
Chaptrr VI« — Jack puts new rigging over his mast-head,
and hoists new colours — Don*t like it—- Meets with strange
folks, and hears some unpleasant truths of himself — More
mysteries — Gets arrested for debt, and served with notice
of action, which action he but little notices — The devil to
pay with Poll, and no pitch hot !-— Everything goes the
wrong way, and no physic . . . .113
Chapter VII. — Jack shows symptoms of returning to bis
senses over a shoulder of mutton — Makes large' promises
of amendment— A summary of proceedings, and the sum-
total turns out to be totally disagreeable — Lots of good
advice, to be taken at a fair valuation— Too dear, and not
taken at all— An interesting interview, followed by an in-
teresting arrangement . . 14i2
Chapter VIII.— A conversible chapter, but it expounds
much, and is deserving of attention — Some hints upon
bigamy, and pencillings by the way on the use of the
gibbet — A father's advice to a daughter respecting the
marriage state — How to take advice advisedly, that is, if it
be palatable . . .160
CONTEXTS. Vll
Cb AFTER IX.— Just like love, but nottbet tender sentiinent —
Jack tries bii band in eloquence upon bands— Makes no
band of it— More morality, and some prison discipline-
Mrs. Snowdrop mucb in tbe dark as nigbt advances-— A
letter, but wbetber it contain loye or law, time most sbow^
The wbole concladed witb a peep into a prison . 178
Chaptbb X. — Begins with many amiabilities— -There is mucb
settling of scores, and everything looks pleasant — A ride on
a coach — Listeners seldom hear much g^d of themselves,
though the bearing often does them good — Jack dines on
the road, and afterwards throws one of the company out
of the window .... 213
Chapter XI. — Jack in London — Excellent advice— Lord
Chesterfield made easy— This chapter should be studied by
rural and naval gentlemen, and all upon whom tbe rust of
rusticity adheres — ^The end of the lesson is a fiddle, a horn-
pipe, and a jollification . .231
Cm AFTER XII «— Very short, but decidedly to the purpose —
Jack visits bis town residence incog. — Gets on board bis
yacht, and he and old Grimm, like two school-boys, play
tbe truant . • . . • 242
Chafter XIIIi«— Not much to the credit of our hero in one
sense, very much in most— Being his own master now, he
takes to himself many masters worse than himself, and
profits very considerably— He generalises in his studies,
and becomes Gentleman Jack . . 249
CuAFiBR XIV.— Jack vindicated— Sir Edward makes tbe
best of a bad business— Jack makes bis dibtU before bis
VUl CONTENTS.
rich cousin-heireBft— Makes himself reiy agreeable, although
he gi^es good adnce — Showa how to treat a fit of the
aolka aucceasfully, and does other great things besides plaj
upon the fiddle .... 267
JACK ASHORE.
CHAPTER I.
Is ft long^ vad momentous one, embracing^ the principal things
for which man and woman exist— loTing, feeding, and
fighting— It touches also upon setren mortal sins, and con-
tains seren immortal morals— The former apparent, the
latter but darUj shadowed out — Sin is so mach more easily
achieyed than morality.
'* Steady, ho ! Jack ! Mind your helm — ease
her — ease her ! In with your lofty canvass — the
Lord love you, Jack ! reduce your head-sails :
you are too nigh the wind, my dear — ease her
— ease her — I tell ye your weather leeches are
shaking — already youVe three cloths in the
VOL. II. B
2 JACK ASHORE.
wiDd. Jack, my darling, this will never d<
do you see that infernal imp that has hold of
your tiller? How the fiend mocks, and gibbers,
and grins ! What diabolical antics ! Brain
him, Jack, brain him ! Do you mark how he
yaws the good ship ? You donH know him —
it is a pity. But there is an old quarter-master
looking chap standing by, hanging his head —
nobody regards him — your companions don't
regard him, nor you either. So much the
worse for you all — his name is Common Sense.
Give him the helm. Jack ! There is yet time,
but barely — already are the seas breaking over
you — ^your canvass is strained — your bows are
under water — your masts bend — your yards
creak, and your standing rigging is snapping.
How can it be otherwise? Folly has taken
command of the good ship, and there is the
demon of insanity at the helm. The gale of
prosperity is too much for you — too, too sudden,
my dear John — have a care— it will upset you,
and shortly make you nothing but a crazy
wreck. Oh, have a care of madness, my dear
boy — have an especial care of it. Dread you
JACK A8HOBX. 8
not the darkened cell and the chaios of the
maniac? What then would avail your vast
estates, your high-sounding.title? You would
pine away on the loathsome straw until your
fleshless bones rattled in your parched-up skin ;
never more in your light sailor^s dress to swing
joyously in the merry sunshine upon the lofty
yard, or to gather up the fluttering sail, with
the blithe * One, two, three !* Never more
with proud cheerfulness to heave the lead
gallantly to the sprit-sail yard, singing out the
decreasing soundings as the brave ship neared
the dear shore that you loved and were de-
fending — never — ^never more ! That would be
sad ^ change for a penny t Steady, ho I Jack,
steady !''
Was there no one by him to warn him of the
dangerous path of excitement that he was tread-
ing ? Yes, there was one ; onealas ! but too much
trending upon the lee-shore her8el£ But the
gale that was driving her to her ruin was not
the blast of arrogant prosperity, nor the storm of
wild fury, nor the whirlwind of ungovernable
passions ; it was that impulse of the soul that
B 2
4 JACK ASHORE.
seems gentler than mercy, yet is stronger than
death— unrequited love.
Susan had remarked Jack's exalted tone, the
unsettled flash of his eye, and a slight quivering
over his white and expansive forehead* He
had been enacting the lion, and roaring fully up
to the part. Just then, no one seemed inclined
to speak to or approach him. Already had he
begun to talk somewhat incoherently.
*' My dear John," said Susan going up to
him with a tender smile, and possessing herself
of one of his huge hands, ** Come and sit by
me — I want to speak to you.''
^^What says my lily with the two violets
for eyes, and the rosebud lips ? Surge ! but
you grow as sweet as the moonshine on a tiny
little wave^*you do, Sue ^ pale, pale — and
white — ^but very pretty ! What are you like,
poor Susan-^what are you like, my bending
branch of white blossoms ?"
*^ Be quiet, John, and don't talk—but come
and sit by me, and hear me talk."
^ Not talk P not talk ? and why not talk, when
I have so gentle a creature to talk to? Not
JACK A8H0RS. O
talk? yes— that was all very well to say to
poor Jack, the forecastle man — but to tell
Sir John Truepenny that he is not to talk, is
very absurd— droll, droll ; ^ and he burst into
a laugh that even the obtuse Mrs. Snowdrop
found to have something unnatural about it.
^ To be sure you shall talk— but it is not
fair for so grand a gentleman to have all the
talk to himself — that would be so proud-like.^
'^ Very well, we will both talk. Susan Snow-
drop and Sir John Truepenny shall talk, and
everybody else shall be silent ; but the baronet
must talk before the daughter of — O Susan,
what a beast I am ! — only let me tell you what
you are like, and 1^11 listen to you for an
hour."*
" Agreed — ^it is a bargain, John — now go on —
but sit down by me, and speak low— gentlemen
of title always speak low to— to— may I say a
lady?"
'^ Ladies, Susan ! I don't know what they
are ; but if they are but half so good, and so
gentle, aitd so bearing and forbearing, as the
ill.used "
b JACK A9H0RB.
« What am I like?'
*^ All manner of good and pleasant things-
like a sky-sail made of white jean — your
walk like a ^Mudian schooner on a bowling —
when fyou smile, it i9 like a sunbeam dancing
hither and thither among the sails when a
ship is carrying on all, alow and aloft — ^your
breath is like the sea-breeze setting into Port
Royal harbour, upon the face of a poor fellow
grappling with yellow Jack — ^your voice sounds
like ' up anchor,' on a foreign station, home-
ward bound — your words and your pretty little
speeches come as refreshing as large drops of
rain upon a poor devil parched up in an open
boat, just dying with thirst — ^your sweet temper
is like a gentle breeze two points abaft the
beam — and if you could be turned into a ship,
keeping all your good qualities, the sea would
not be good enough for you — ^little cherubs
would come down for your crew, a glorious
angel would take the helm, and you would sail
right up aloft, and let go your anchor in
heaven."
** Ah, John, this is very fine talking — but
Mary will be jealous P
JACK A8UOHB. 7
'* Why should she be jealous, Sue ? Don't
I stick by her like a man ?— don't she whack me,
and I she— as it may happen? — don't I get
drunk with her ? — what more can the woman
want? No, no, she need not be jealous. I
could not whack you for love— nor for love get
drunk with you — why, I feels awkward a smok-
ing when you are by."
** Now, John, it is my turn.***
Then did the poor creature, with tears in her
eyes, extort a request — the last one she said that
she would ever make — that he should only for
that night drink nothing but water, with the
exception of something that she would send him,
which he was to take on going to bed. She had
great difficulty in doing this ; but Sir John gave
his honour as a man, and she knew upon that
pledge she could depend.
All this was carried on in a tone of voice so
lowy that neither of the other women could
overhear them. Just then Polly was too much
frightened to show her displeasure, and Mrs.
Snowdrop saw with infinite satisfaction the
good understanding between Jack and her
8 JACK ASHORE.
daughter. Indeed, she now believed that the
game was in her own hand% and that her
daughter had much more wit than she had
hitherto given her credit for.
When, therefore^ Susan arose, and told her
that she had made a very agreeable bargain
with Sir John, and that she wished to go home
and there remain till the morrow, her mother
did not offer a single objection, but, the first
time for many years, kissed her affectionately
on wishing her good night. Poll also was
tolerably civil to her on her departure, as» in
her absence^ she felt herself more secure —
though, in truth, she had not many misgivings
as to her certainty of soon becoming Lady
Truepenny.
Jack remained, after Susan had departed,
for some time in deep thought. At length
he started up, and striking the table heavily
with his hand, he exclaimed — '^That girl's
an angel ~ by the three hairs on Mother
Shipton's chin, but she was right I — ^mad ! ware
that, Jack — ware that — if she were to send me
all the filth in the potecar/s shop, Fd stow it
JACK ASHOEE. 9
away — I would. This morning she saved me from
flogging, and to-night she has saved me from" —
he did not say what, but he shuddered as if he
had suddenly trod upon a toad.
Sir John Truepenny now came forward, and
with an enforced composure shook the two
ladies by the hand, and spoke some quiet and
gracious words to the very strong band that had
now assembled. He did this as a mental exercise.
A letter was now put into the hands of Mrs.
Snowdrop; for she had taken the command,
and had ordered every message and missive to
be delivered to her. She broke the seal with-
out hesitation, and looked much annoyed.
Jack inquired the occasion of her uneasiness,
and to his astonishment and indignation he
found the letter addressed to himself. This
indignation he expressed by a dreadful oath^
which he was on the point of enforcing by a
cuff of the head. Suddenly checking himself,
he thus addressed her — ^^ For your daughter's
sake, I axes your pardon for my violence — yes
— 1*11 give a wide berth to everything that she
calls sightment. But I tell you, marm, once
B 5
10 JACK ASHORE.
for all, you've taken a liberty that you must
take DO more — breaking open a seal addressed
to me is just as bad as breaking open my sea-
chest, and robbing me of my best bib and
tucker. And let me overhaul all messages
myself, marm/'
"Please your honour, my lud,^ said the
bumboat woman, with an odd mixture of
pride, vexation, and humility, " I hired these
here rooms."
"Oh, ye did, did ye?— when I was mops
and brooms? Very well — Poll, let you and me
tramp — I dares to say we^U find some other
place to take us in."
Nothing would have pleased Polly more than
such a move ; for, so long as Mrs. Snowdrop
remained, she felt that she possessed only a
divided empire. But Mrs. Snowdrop whined,
and humbled herself into the very dust, and at
length conciliated Sir John and Miss Mary
Macannister,
The letter was firom Mr. Singleheart, Jack's
lawyer. It contained some guarded expostula*
tions on the conduct he was adopting^men-
JACK A8H0BK. II
tioned that he, Mr. Singleheart, would see him
early next morning — that he proposed that they
should set off for London in the course of the
next day — the sooner the better— as there was
much necessary business to transact ; and that he
had taken the liberty of sending him a tailor, who
had engaged to furnish him with sufficient clothes
in time, to enable him to travel as a gentleman.
This letter enclosed one from Sir Edward
Fortintower, to this effect
« Crown Hotel, High Street.
Wednesday.
** Dbae Sir John,
*'You will pardon this liberty, in the know-
ledge that I take it solely for your good. This
morning I was proud to own you as my rela-
tion, but the proceedings of the day have
almost made me repent of my too hasty avowal.
I would never desire you to forget the frankness
and honesty of your old, whilst I wish you to
assume the propriety looked for from you in
your new character. Surrounded as you are^
I cannot come to see you ; I can therefore only
12 JACK A8H0BK.
caution you as your true friend. Follow, in
everything, the advice of your lawyer, and
above all things avoid excitement, in drinking,
acting, speaking, and even thinking. For one
man who has lost his senses by sudden calamity,
thousands have gone raving mad on the acqui-
sition of unexpected wealth. This is a well-
known fact You require as much care and
quiet as a person attacked with a brain fever.
Let me hear from you at least, and you would
do well to see a medical man.
" Your well-wisher,
"Edward Foetintowee."
Both these letters being written in a plain
bold hand, Jack read them very easily. He
reflected for some time, and then sent for the
landlord, and inquired if there was any one
below who had inquired for him.
'< Any one!*' said the landlord, lifting up
his hands in astonishment ** Every one ! at
least every one has been ; there are now between
thirty and forty persons waiting to see your
honour.*
JACK ASHOEE* 13
<' Any of the Old Glories?''
^ A great maoy of them have been and
called — DO liberty men— all officers.*'
^^ And I denied to them ! Mother Snowdrop.
Mother Snowdrop, how dare you ?**
'' Oh, Sir John," said the landlord, << they
all took it in good part, and said it was very
proper, and very sensible. There is .still Mr.
Slowberry, one of the young gentlemen^ below ;
he has been one hour and a half over his glass
of grog in the coffee-room,"
'* Give him my humble duty — no, no— my
respects — ^pooh — say Sir John Truepenny would
be happy to see him, if he is disengaged."
<' Don't do any such thing," said Poll ; <' tell
the bilking reefer to tumble up stairs, as the
barrownight has some orders to give him."
^^ Hold your tongue, Poll ; do as I bid you
— stop — any one come with these letters?"
'* Mr. Snitchy the great tailor, with his fore,
man and first cutter."
** First cutter ! does the cabbaging son of a
gun sport his first and second cutter ?"
** He does, Sir John.'*
14 JACK ASHORE.
<c
How many oars does they pull ?-*- has a
barge too, perhaps ? As good a berth as port-
admiral."
^* No» nO| Sir John, Mr. Snitch would as
soon get into a cabbage net as into a boat — his
first cutter cuts the cloth for the dungs and the
fiinte."
** Well, Fve much to lam yet, d'ye see ■ so
let Mr. Snitch come up with his foreman — ^his
first cutter may cut his stick, and you may
leave the flints on the Common Hard, and the
dungs where they ought to be left.^
** Very good, Sir John Truepenny, I vow ;""
and mine host departed, apparently much edi-
fied
^* Shall we [day the tailors in, your honour ?^
said the chief musician.
^* Not without you can play the devil.^
<< We can (play ' the devil among them,^ Sir
John."
*^ Off she goes,** said Sir John.
Accordingly, the strenuous band divided
itself into two equal parts, one of which played
the tune of the '* Devil among the Tailors,**
JACK ASHOER. 15
the other that of, ** Off she goes ;'' and, as each
strove for the mastery, the clamour was deafen-
ing. In the midst of this riot, the midshipman
entered with the tailors themselves, and, by his
looks of annoyance at the association, he seemed
to be inclined to play the devil among them
also ; bat the instruments were too overpower-
ing for the middy ; so placing a finger in each
ear, he walked up to Sir John, and grinned his
welcome in his face.
When the noise of stringed and wind instru-
ments had ceased, there was naturally a little
awkwardness in the manner of the present mid-
shipman and the past forecastle man towards
each other. Mr. Slowberry, in trying to con-
template the baronet, could not divest himself of
the idea of the foremast man ; and Sir John, in
endeavouring to give the social welcome of
equality, could not forget how often the mid-
shipman had addressed him to the effect of,
'* Scull along there, you lazy lubber, or Fll
freshen your way with a rope's end.*'
They looked at each other and laughed, but
neither would speak first, lest he diould be
16 JACK A8H0RK*
deemed to be too condescending. Sir John,
however, pointed to a decanter of port wine, of
which the midshipman filled a tumbler, and
drank it off deliberately, and with much inward
satisfaction. This acted as the sesame to their
lips— each spoke at once, and the next moment
they were in a corner of the room in deep con-
sultation ; the result of which was, that, shortly
after, each party was seen writing a letter, —
which was done off-hand by the midshipman,
but was performed by Jack with so many con-
tortions of the face, that you would have sup-
posed that he had been making mouths at
every letter as soon as he had formed it.
The tailors having received their orders, and
taken the necessary measures to furnish Jack
with two suits of clothes, the one the plain fit
of a private gentleman, the other as natty a
sailor's rig as skill could produce, they were
deluged with grog, and played out to the tune
of ** Drops of Brandy.*'
It was now nine o^clock ; the candles were
lighted, the hot supper was ready — but where
were the guests ? There was no other stranger
JACK ASHORB. 17
present but Mr. Slowberry, and he, understand-
ing the probable description of persons to be
expected, could not be induced to honour the
feast with his company. He departed.
After the midshipman had taken his leave,
Mrs. Snowdrop ordered the supper to be brought
in, and the multiplicity of the dishes caused
Jack to open his eyes, and exdairo, ** Mother
Snowdrop, and be d— ^ t'ye ; Poll, you hussy,
what's in the wind now? This is making
ducks and drakes of the baronet's dibs with a
vengeance."
Saying this, he harpooned one of the former
with a carving-fork, and held it up menacingly.
<* If there were hands enough to eat all this,
Pm not the man to grudge it ; but this is
turning the tables upon six upon four to a fine
tune — this is three upon forty.''
** Just pipe to dinner, my dear Jack, and
you'll open your goggles," said the amiable
Miss Mary Macannister.
<< Strike up the ' Roast Beef of Old Eng^
land,'" said Sir John, flourishing his carving-
fork with the duck upon it. No sooner had
half of the first bar of that appetite-provoking
18 JACK A8H0EE.
air oeen murdered, than, marshalled in by mine
host and four waiters, dressed expressly for the
occasion, in marched the eUte of the Vulgarity
of Portsmouth. Glorious was the display of
colours, various and recherch4s were the cos-
tumes. They had been waiting below for
hours, but they were not permitted to intrude
upon the baronet's privacy until they were sum-
moned.
Most of the guests were strangers to Jack*
His company consisted of ladies prodigal of
their ''charms, crimps, tavern-haunters, animals
who obtained a precarious existence by singing
songs and humouring the follies of the seamen
in public houses, hucksters, and three or four
stout and respectable looking mates of mer«
chant vessels.
If Jack was vexed that among all these he
saw no old shipmate, he was rejoiced to see
that there was not a Jew present. He did
the honours remarkably well ; and with the
exception of thrusting the hot duck into the
face of an indiscreet crimp^ who had thrust
his tongue into his cheek in deridom of Sir
John's newly acquired dignity, the reception
JACK ASUOHE. 19
was pleasant and highly gratifying to all
parties.
Were we to give a full description^of this sym-
pofliuin,andtoattempttodo that description any-
thing approaching to justice, it would, of itself,
occupy an entire volunie. We must be brief,
and merely state that Jack sate upon an ele-
vated chair at the head of the table, with Mrs.
Snowdrop at his right, and Mary Macannister
at his left* Behind Jack's chair of state was
displayed his silken banner, with his armorial
bearings emblazoned upon it, and it had a very
gorgeous effect.
Before the work of devastation began. Jack
called the landlord, and whispered him some-
thing.
" Three bottles of gin, Sir John Truepenny ?
Did you say three?"
** Three, you lubber, and the best you have
in the house."
They were placed near him, and Sir John
intimated that he should not exceed his three
bottles, but that his moderation was not to be
90 JACK ASHORE.
taken as a rule for the company. This intima-
tion was received with three cheers.
The assembled fell to with a voracity that
was alarming. The noise at first was of that
slopping, whistling, grunting description, which
comes so rurally and romantically upon the ear
from a hog-farm at feeding-time. When every
one had eaten, as the French say, de tout wn
aaoul^ it then became evident, from signs more to
be depended upon than any upon any almanack,
that the night would set in with hard drinking.
And now the clamour began to arise, and Jack
was Sir John'd and my-lorded to a degree that
made him heartily sick at his newly-acquired
title.
At this period of the evening a certain bar-
ber, of whom more anon — ^the poet-laureate of
the amphibious back-slums — seemed to be very
uneasily placed upon his seat ; and many were
the looks that were turned towards him — looks
arch with curiosity, or anxious with impatience.
^* Silence for the shaver," was now vocifer-
ously demanded, and then the. tonsorial phe-
nomenon rose, with all the dignity of concsious
JACK ASHOBE. 21
oratoty, and the vanity of much rhyme, and in-
timated to the noble Jack that he had com-
posed a tribatary aong to his merits, which he
should be proud to sing. Sir John, with an
imperial condescension, gave the supplicated
license, and, with a little squeaking, penny-
trumpet voices the barber commenced, to a tune
of his own, the following lyric :
" Tbvbpknky is m joUy knight —
TsviFiNiiy is of maekle might,
PntHT of wrong he maketh right.
In every place and time ;
For should yon— standing in no awe
Of God or msA— go break the law.
Penny will get you off, and draw
Yon safely through all crime 1
i»
Jack interrupted the bard of the soapsuds by
shouting, " Belay there, miserable chin-rasper !
D*ye go for to think that I am such a born
blackguard as that comes to ?^
** I humbly protest," said the barber, ** most
bountiful baronet, that you misunderstand
the drift and scope of my song — it is an alle-
gorical shadowing out of your power — ^not an
cc
22 JACK A8H0RB.
exposition of your will — ^a mere Itisus verborum
on your honourable title/'
Well, well,* said the relenting John,
since we've met for a jollification, you may
be a little loose or so ; but a joke's a joke, and
if the ladies don't mind your horum, why then
heave a-head."
The ladies looked unutterable things; but
the barber being an established favourite, he
was allowed to proceed, and he then chimed
on-^
" Haye I to trarel far or near.
Penny iball be my meaaengei'.
Nor time or distance need I fear.
With PENNY in my poke, men ;
Have I bat pennies good and fine,
Men will be bidding me to wine.
Telling me all that's theirs is mine,
Altho' 'tis said in joke, men !"
'< Avast P said Jack; "just swab that up.
I don't understand it, and the little way I can
see into it I donH like. There, belay over all,
and ha' done.^'
The discomfited poet made himself a poten-
JACK A8H0&E. 33
tial mixture, looked round savagely, drank it
at one draught, and held his peace. There was
much heroism in that man's composition.
Then there presented herself a fair and fat
volunteer, of the gentler sex, who sang along
and sleepy ditty about a dove, which dove,
through about fourteen verses, rhymed elU
temately with " above" and " love." The
ditty is still extant in the Seven Dials, and is
well worthy of the research of the antiquary.
Now, among the motley company was a
strange old character — an octogenarian seaman
— ^who had, it was reported, much wealth, and
who had obtained it, in early life, by being a
spectator to that most distressing of all pro-
menades, the walking of the plank. He was
a singular, a shrewd, and a morose old cha-
racter, dressed much after the fashion of the
reign of the first George, and he seemed to
hold the seamen of this day in something very
nearly bordering on contempt. The only name
by which he was known was ** Noah ;" and his
fame rested upon three peculiarities ; the mys-
24 JACK A8H0EE.
tery of hia early life, his ancient sea ditties,
and his perversity of temper.
Through the entertainment he had solaced
himself with the amiable occupation of casting
contemptuous and sarcastic glances at our hero ;
but the song had a little diverted his resent-
ment, and having, in very homely words, cha-
racterised the sickness it had produced upon
him, he announced his intention of singing.
This was received with shouts of welcome ;
and whilst every one was expecting a long and
glorious sea burst in honour of Benbow, Drake,
or some bold buccaneer, he mystified his
audience by chanting the following verses, in
derision of the lady's Dove :
** I brnve m gallant cock
CrowB for me erery daj,
He waketh me right early still
Mj matins for to say.
»
I baye a gidlant cock
A comely little pet ;
His comb is like the coral red.
His wings are black as jet.
JACK A8H0RV. 35
T have m g;aine-lired cock
Noble he u of kind.
He bean him like a baroo bold
Hia gorgeoua traio behind.
Hia tail ia rainbow-like,
Hia lega genteel and amall,
Hia apnra they are of aiWer bright,
Hia foea beneath them fall.
Hia eyea are crystal poola
Where float two globea of amber,
And er'rj night he percheth him
Beneath hia master'a chamber."
The lady, who felt her song ridiculed, flatly
told him she did not believe a single word
about his song, and all the company very ener-
getically expressed themselves as dissatisfied.
Old Noah rose from the table in a passion,
spoke something in the praise of one Henry
Morgan, damned all upstarts, consigned every
one then and there to the pit that has no bottom,
and walked off in such a humour as could
VOL. II. c
96 JACK ASHOSE.
only be satisfactorily expended upon a patient
and humble wife.
Then ensued much more singing, with the
sea salt strong in it
*^ How is your old woman ?" said one of the
ladies, taking advantage of a lull, to a tall
gawky youth who had just escaped from among
the hogs of Hampshire, to enter his majesty^s
service, and humanise himself as a marine. He
answered, to the astonishment of all, by a song,
and very dolefully he staved out,
" All old women let alone.
For I haye one, bone of mj bone ;
I dare not say my aoul's my own,
I dare not.
When I come from tbe plough at noon.
Hungry and tir'd, I*m such a loon,
^ To ask my dame for knife or spoon,
I dare not.
And wben I ask my dame for bread,
She takes a staff and breaks my bead ;
And creep from underneath tbe bed,
I dare not.
JACK ASHORE. 97
And if I ask my dame for meaty
Mj pate from bRMNnstiok geta the troaU*
When ahe looka aour, to dxink or eat
I dare not.
For if I ask my dame for ebeeae,
* Boy/ abe will aay, quite at her eaae,
' There, take the rind.' To eongh or aneeie
I dare not.
Bot aoon 111 wed me to Brown Beaa,
I'll aleep my sleep, I'll eat my mess,
And to enjoy my happiness,
111 dare then/'
On the finish of this stave, Mrs. Snow-
drop very deliberately, and in her own right,
rose and went and soundly boxed the ears of
the future marine, telling him to treat the
ladies, old or young, with the awe and respect
due from such a noodle as himself, and to re-
member " the mother who bore him."
The band sometimes accompanied the various
singers in various tunes, which had a most
pleasant efiect, as generally the singing was
naught, and the music worse.
Then arose, in a most stentorian voice, from
02
28 JACK ASHORE*
a lump of mendicaDcy^ clothed in multi-tinted
rags, the following uncalled for and unexpected
strain.
'* Ob, when my pone was full, I vow
I might hare bad both horse and cow,
And jolly drinking friends enow
By the virtue of my purse.
When my purse grew thin and slack.
When old rags hung on my back
People said, < Good-bye, poor Jack,
Lucky to escape a curse
On my empty head and purse.
No more to drink, no more to eat,
Men no more ciril, women sweets—
The air may be my drink and meat.
Since the draining of my purse.
Farewell horse, and farewell cow.
Farewell cart, and farewell plough,
Woman, man, I know ye now.
Better know ye since I'm worse,
Through the draining of my purse."
*' That's a very sensible song/' said Jack ;
** you seem in a woful plight my friend — storm-
struck — running rigging all gone, and stand-
JACK ASHORE. 29
iDg rigging all running. You seem like a hulk
of a fellow — why don't you clap your hand
to some rope, or tail on to summut — and then
you'll be able to bend better sails, and get a
shot or so in your purse.**
*^ Sir John Truepenny, I was bom a gentle*
man -^ a gentleman am I, and the son of a
gentleman, who was descended from a long
race, all of gentle blood."
'* Oh r replied Jack, " no more need be
said about it. But it*s vastly lucky for the
world that the first sons of Adam were not
bom gentlemen, for if they hadn't a took to
work like niggers, we should all have been in
a pretty mess — should like to know who was
the first gentleman — mayhap some of the
ladies or gemmen present can tell me.^
Everybody rather thought the first gentleman
must have been the founder of his or her particu-
lar line; for it appeared, by their own confessions,
that a better descended assemblage of personshad
never before been congregated in one apartment;
and the beggar, especially, laid it down as an
incontrovertible axiom, that '* iU fortune cannot
30 JACK ASHOBS.
corrupt good blood ;^ — all of which was most
consolatory to Jack.
After this discussion, which was carried on
with much vehemence, men and women sang
separately and together, in unison and in
emulation ; the band had been fed and swilled,
and began to feel the sacred fervour of har-
mony, and would not be silenced, though
they vainly endeavoured to silence the vocal
displays. Mrs. Snowdrop was proud and
loud, regulating and dictating. Poll was
tender, loving, and shocked, saying, ** The
people were so extremely low. Moggy Bla-
therchops astounded her delicacy by her vul-
garity. She was sure Sal Dimity bad not
washed her face to-day, and that though some
people might call Peg of Portsea pretty, she was
certain her cheeks were made up of brickdust
and hog's lard. It was her intention shortly to
cut them all."
But as the orgies proceeded, it was observed
that Jack grew more and more serious. He got
angry, and Poll thought that he never before
seemed so savage as when she attempted lovingly
JACK ASHORE. 31
to drink out of his glass. He was that night
a riddle to her. His potations seemed to have
no other effect upon him than to make him the
more dull. The bumboat woman was fast
getting gloriousy and expatiated loudly upon
all that she had done for Jack, and all that she
yet would do, as she intended to be more than
a mother to him and to her Sue.
" Upon this hint he spoke :" — not Othello, but
a nigger quite as black, and a great deal uglier.
He was not only a tolerated but a much courted
bufibon with one leg, who pretended to play
upon the fiddle, imd wore, with many additions
and emendations, a full admiral^s uniform.
When he was neither in the stocks nor in the
house of correction, he was always to be found
among the best paid class of seamen ; they his
prey, and he their sport. The party would not
have been complete without him. He rose,
placed his gold-laced cocked hat over his black
and white wool, took it off again with an air,
and bowed to Sir John Truepenny.
This procured him attention at the supper-
92 JACK ASHOKE.
table, but the fiddles were still scraped, and the
bagpipes howled, with ^ damnable iteration.^
** Yah, yah \^ said the negro, twirling his
cocked-hat over his head ; then discharging
it among the band, he continued, ^* You no
sabby me lor high amiral go make speech —
silence, you debbel, spose tink hab no year —
Goramity — ^why you make honest people deaf?
Now, hearee ! me gib one grand toast—- drinkee
drinkee much then when me drink lun toast,
you dam fiddles scrape like one hell — ah,
ah ! Now fill ub your glasses— ebery buckra
body — here be the health of my lud, duck,
prince, little king. Sir John Twopence — may
him lib long — hab lubbley wife and lots of
picaninnies. One, two, dree I Change for a
penny! Hurrah!"
The band made a grand crash — the glasses
were emptied, and waved in the air — all rose,
and gave with stentorian effect the required
cheers. The noise subsided; even the obsti-
nate band became mute. Jack rose — he
scratched his titled head — ^fumbled in his
JACK ASHOBB. 33
pockets fur his tobacco-box without success-
looked angrily at Poll — drank off a whole
tumbler full of gin, which feat produced
a faint cheer — but neither the gin nor the
cheer produced any sound from Jack. So
he began to show his arms like a lion rampant,
and to move his legs as if he were running up
the rigging; he then went through the motions
of pretending to hold the spokes of the wheel as
if he was steering, and then swinging his right
arm round and round, he sang out, in a clear
melodious tone, ** By the deep niue;" and after
each of these pantomimic actions he dashed the
back of his rough hand hurriedly across his
eyes, and shook his head mournfully. When
he had performed all this, he held out both of
his arms before him, closed his fists, and shook
them as if he were shaking hands with vacancy.
He then waved his right hand with Poll's white
handkerchief in it, as if he were bidding fare^
well to a vessel hull down in the distance. It
was very moving ; and as Jack loo.ked sad and
serious, some of the ladies began to blubber,
(especially those who had drank most,) because
5
34 JACK ASHORE.
they oould in no maimer oomprdiend what he
meant
Like a practised orator, Sir John gave time
for the tender emotions which he had excited
to subside ; then taking his straw, round, and
ribbon decorated hat, he crushed it flat, and
placing it under his arm as if it had been a
chapeau bras^ he grinned like a newly caught
baboon, and made the company several very
fantastical bows. He then took the bell-puU,
and cut off the large brass ring at the end of
it, with about a yard of the broad ribbon at-
tached, which he very coolly made into a collar
for his neck, and, using the ring as a spy-glass,
leisurely surveyed through it every person at
table with an air of consummate disdain* Every
one was convulsed with laughter, excepting the
particular person under surveillance. After
this he drew a skewer from out of a round of
veal, and having cut it in two, and thrown both
pieces away, sate down amidst three distinct
rounds of applause.
When order had been a little restored, one
Peter Samey, a noted public-house spouter.
JACK ASHO&E. 35
who had long discoYered that it was beneath
the moral dignity of a free-bom Englishman
to cobble shoes, when the constitution of the
country and the political condition of its inhabi-
tants stood in so much need of repair, rose and
said,
*^ Countrywomen and countrymen l^
<< We ain't l^ shrieked out a dozen voices.
*^ Ladies and gentlemen ! why should I so
much disgrace you* by calling you by names
that signify the hydra-headed spawn of bloated
and fat corruption — corruption, that, with its
ravenous and skeleton voracity, spreads the
table of gorging repletion, and makes this ooce
happy country a vast arena of destitution and
famine — ^a destitution the more deplorable be-
cause it is not felt — a famine the more terrific
because its horrors are not scanned by the gross,
dull, and over-fattened population ? But though
not subject to wandering, I am wandering from
my subject. You have beard the rich streams
of eloquence that just now have flowed, like the
immovable mountains fixed in their adaman-
tine foundations, from the melliflupus lij)s of
36 JACK ASHORE.
our worthy host. You have heard it — and,
hearing, you have approved — you have ap-
proved it, and approving, you have rejoiced —
you have rejoiced at it, and rejoicing, you have
been glad ; but let me tell you — and I tell it
you with all deference — that neither your ap*
probation, nor your rejoicing, nor your glad-
ness, have been worthy of the splendid oratory
that welled forth from the eloquent mouth of
Sir John Truepenny. You have been addressed
by a sable son of humanity."
Da me," said the negro.
It ia you, my brother in the black binding
— ^it is you, my dingy purity. Are you not,
physically speaking, the whitest of the com-
pany ?'' _
** Debbel take de physic.^
'* I say that you are the least coloured
amongst us — it is not you but we that are
coloured folks. Read, read^ my friends!
White is the union, and mixture, and aggre-
gation of all colours — ^how coloured, then, must
we, who call ourselves white, be? And black
being the absence of all colour, how absurd is
cc
JACK ASHORE. 37
it to call our friend a man of colour, who has
no colour whatever?'
" What a lie ! He's laughing at us !* and
other disagreeable exclamations, interrupted
our orator. He was used to it, however, and
so he proceeded.
^* Well, my friends, what does all this mean ?
It proves to demonstration, without the shadow
or the colour of a doubt — I told you how the
discourse upon colour would apply — ^it proves
that we are bound to give the health, in nine
times nine, of the future Lady Truepenny/'
The conclusion of the harangue indemnified
the company for its length and sublime obscu-
rity. The applause was terrific. Poll and
Mrs. Snowdrop grew scarlet. Jack maintained
an imperturbable gravity. The two ladies
rose together. The crisis had arrived. The
hollow truce was about to terminate.
^< I — " said Polly, with amiable confusion.
^^ I — " said the bumboat woman, with arro-
gant assumption.
^* You r said Poll, turning up her nose with
ineffable disdain.
38 JACK ASHORE.
^^ You !^ said Mrs. Snowdrop, showing com-
bativeness in every feature.
*^ Set down, you fat, old, filthy abomina^
tion r* screamed PolL
^^ Set down yourself, you commod hussy,
and let a decent woman speak/'
There was the awful pause so usual and so
ominous before hurricanes. Jack remained as
grave as a tombstone, and drank off another
tumbler of gin without flinching, to the admi*
ration of everybody. The band was silent, and
looked on with trepidation. A little bandy-
legged fifer produced a small quivering note,
and got his ear pulled for his temerity.
** Gro it !" at last exclaimed several encou-
raging voices, and the two ladies did " go it"
Immediately everything within the reach of the
one went at the head of the other. The com*
pany espoused different sides. At first, mere
locality seemed to decide on which side each
party should combat. But the order of the
fight was soon broken, and all was admired
confusion. Jack alone remained neutral, and
chuckled over the row. But the missiles were
JACK A8HORB. 39
80on exhausted. It was pleasant and very
edifying to behold how carefully everybody
drained the decanter or the glass before it was
discharged at an adversary's head. The con-
sequence of this was, that more were overcome
by liquor than by blows. Several fell as if
shot, inanimately drunk, after a heavy draught
of pure spirits. The band caught the prevail-
ing mania, and rang out, ^' Britons, strike
home 1" The hubbub was horrible, but being
too violent to last, a sullen lull ensued.
But the angry and the bad feelings of the
two principal Amazons were not lulled — those
nothing could lull — nothing even make tolera^
ble — but a fistic encounter.
The table was thrust to the wall, the broken
glass removed from the middle of the room,
the dead drunk piled up in one comer, and a
ring was formed. Neither lady was a novice
in the pugilistic art. Each of them would have
scorned the feminine and rat-like acts of biting,
pinching, or pulling at the hair. They hit out
straightforward and manfully, and they were
not unequally matched. What Mrs. Snowdrop
40 JACK ASHORE.
wanted in activity, she made up in strength and
stamina. Jack had seen his Poll fight before,
and he knew that she was game ; so he looked
forward to the result with much calmness,
secretly wishing that the bumboat woman might
get a good thrashing.
We must adopt the classical style of the
fancy in recording this fight. Both women
came to the scratch all the worse for the want
of previous training. It was impossible to dis-
cover which had suffered most in the previous
skirmish, as both were covered from head to
foot with gravy, melted butter, wine, and spirits.
Betting even : Mrs. Snowdrop for choice.
Round the first. A little cautious sparring.
Poll attempted her favourite one, two, but was
very cleverly stopped by the bumboat woman,
who threw in a terrific whistler in the bread-
basket. Overreached herself, and fell. Two
to one on Mrs. Snowdrop.
Second. Polly came up piping at her bel-
lows, but quite game. The bumboat woman
too confident ; and, in endeavouring to make
play, received a terrible facer, which drew the
JACK ASHO&E. 41
first blood, the claret pouring out of both nos-
trils. They closed, and both down: Poll
uppermost. Betting even.
Third. Polly too gay. Placed some good
hits, and got away cleverly. Mrs. Snowdrop
made herself up for mischief, and delivered a
smasher on each of Polly's eyes, that made
them strike light like a new steel upon a good
flint Both parties piping for second wind.
The confusion very great, and the ring broken.
But we have already grown disgusted with
the scene, and we shall merely state that several
rounds were fought, and that, in the intervals,
the music sounded merrily. Already had vic-
tory all but declared for Mary Macannister,
when the ill-guarded door was suddenly broken
open, and a large posse of constables and watch •
men made their unwelcome appearance.
The short row that ensued was intense. In the
midst of this confusion Jack showed the true
coolness and intrepidity of a British tar. His
Poll was still screaming and swearing, stamping
and flinging about her arms, the very centre of
the disturbance, and the prize that the consta-
42 JACK ASHORB.
bles seemed most bent upon making* The
emergency was pressing. Sir John seized the
immense bass viol from the feeble hand in
which it was trembling, and, lifting it high
above the head of the once sharer of his
hammock, it came down with the centre of
its broader end upon her scull, which it im-
mediately admitted, and let through. Her
head poked through the instrument, and looked
round with bewilderment two or three seconds;
but Sir John knew that no time was to be
lost ; so, towing her along with tiiis musical
grappling-iron, he lugged her to the side door,
dragged her in, and locked it; so, before the
peace officers could ask, ^^ Where is she ?^ she
had departed in peace, and was nowhere.
A few escaped by the front door as the
watchmen entered. The many drunken were
wheeled in barrows to the watchhouse; the
half-drunken handcuffed, and consigned to
the same parochial hospitality. The various
members of the baud, being much too poor
to have any douceur to offer, were kicked down
stairs into the street, and dismissed.
JACK A8H0EE. 43
Mrs. Snowdrop was taken to the watch-
house in a miserable plight, but, soon procuring
bail, she was led home in a most wretched con-
tion, both of body and mind*
But the constabulary looked in vain for the
grand prize. When they broke open the door
that led to the best bedroom, through which
Jack and Poll, with her head through the bass
viol, had retreated, they found the room empty.
The fugitives were not to be found. They
had escaped by the backway, and it was pru-
dently considered that pursuit would be useless
Thus ended Jack's first day ashore.
44 JACK ASHORE.
CHAPTER IL
Specimen of correspondence worthy of the elegant letter-
writer— A landlord, like a storki judged bj the length of
his bUl— 4he bill not bo lucky as Giles Grimm, the latter
being discharged — The light of other days goes out for a
time — ^by keeping in.
Portsmouth, its dirty suburbs and its clean
fortifications, next day resounded with the
fame of Jack, but Jack and bis lady had dis-
appeared. No traces could be discovered of
them, and this mystery created an interest for
our hero of a still deeper intensity* The ac-
count, faithful in its leading particulars, but
greatly exaggerated, of the previous supper,
with its characteristic finale, was the only topic
of conversation, with a well-authenticated anec-
dote, that, after the Blue Posts was cleared, the
JACK ASHORE. 45
honest landlord, with his wife, and a trusty waiter,
armed with heavy hammers and the kitchen
poker, went very carefully over the whole of the
house, and smashed to atoms all the old and
injured furniture ; after which they called in
a half dozen of their respectable neighbours,
that they might bear witness to the havoc that
Sir John Truepenny's party had made in this
once handsomely furnished and respectably
conducted house.
Whilst Sir Edward Fortintower and Mr.
Singleheart were at breakfast discussing all this
news, with which mine host of the Crown had
made them duly acquainted, two letters were
brought in, the one addressed to the baronet,
the other to the lawyer. We will give the
last-mentioned first.
^^ Sir John Truepenny acquaints his attorney}
Mr. Singleheart, that it will not suit Sir John^s
convenience to permit his attorney to accom-
pany him to London for some days ; and when
Sir John shall repair thither, he begs his
attorney to provide a conveyance for himself;
46 JACK ASHOBE.
for it neither coincides with Sir John's wishes^
nor suits with his relative position towards his
attorney, to admit him as a travelling compa-
nion* It may not be irrelevant to acquaint his
attorney, that on all occasions Sir John in*
tends to support the dignity of his order.
^* Merely for the information of his lawyer,
Sir John Truepenny acquaints him that it is
probable that Sir John may proceed to town ac-
companied by a gentleman every way worthy
to be the associate of a personage of Sir John's
rank, honourable descent, wealth, and distinc-
tion. This gentleman is Mr. Slowberry,
midshipman of H. M. S. Glory ; and Sir John
requests that his lawyer will use all his influ«
ence with the Port-admiral, Captain Firebrass,
and Sir Edward Fortintower, to procure a
month's leave of absence for Samuel Slowberry,
Esq., in order that Sir John Truepenny may
meet with no disappointment. Sir John intir
mates to his lawyer that his, his lawyer^ inte-
rests will materially be affected by the accom-
plishment of Sir John's and Mr. Slowberry's
wishes in this respect.
JACK ASHORE. 47
'* Sir John wishes to add, by way of postscript,
that he intends to take lessons in arithmetic
immediately,^ and that he shall be a rigid exa-
miner into his own accounts ; and acting upon
the advice of his dear and enlightened fnend,
Mr. Slowberry, he desires that everything shall
be done according to Cocker.
''Blue Posts Hotel, Wednesday evening**
When Mr. Singleheart had read this note,
which was written in a bold and free hand, at
least three times over, he commenced whistling
so violently, that he made Sir Edward look up
irom the evidently difficult task with which
he was engaged. It was the deciphering
the fallowing epistle^ which the reader will
have no difficulty in making out, if he will
attend only to the sound, — that being Jack's
only orthographical rule.
*' honered Sir and very deer friend.
" Yor dish Patch yor um Bell servant 2
com Mand was Due ly receved bulk broke hit
Set Era. i wont go Mad yer honer— bilged
48 JACK A8H0SE.
the grog — Moors the Pitty. Sosh I hates
musn't be cut Adrift 2 soon — cause y. a semun
wont strip his Masts of his hold rigging till
his nu be kwite Red Die. Eye hoft 10 uve
thot how behoven i Ham 2 yer honer — there 4
will try 2 mend my Manors. Konsed Dring
poor gyles grim as bin Moor than hay pay
Rent 2 Me hand brot roe Hup handmaid
amen of Me, Eye wud bles yor honer nite
handy, Hif yor honer wud Gettim dis Charged
Cosy 2 be hay pay Rent 2 me Still — mi Du Ty
2 Miss Tertumee, hand Please Tellim hive
haxed 1 Mitchmite ov the Glory 2 rite hay
Respect Able letter 2 sasmuch — niver Yew
fonk yer honer, but jackal du well yet — lettim
have is pree Hout, hand then heelcum the
barronit grand — ham Goen 2 kut mystic from
the Blewpostesses, sea Inn hasow they Charges
eye, hand his low Rue Inn Nation as bin plaid
hat the Blewpostesses, Butt hive hordred no
Think hand brok no Think, hand dontin Tend
2 pa 4 no Think — But the bum Boat hummem
Eye Sal Cull Late will ave 2 pa Haul ; sarveser
Rite. Miss Terslpppery the mid Die says
JACK ASHORE. 49
sassee has ow eye must larn gallows grappy and
bog grappy» with punk 2 hation, hand sin Tax
with haxidents— -dredful things 2 larn sure Lie.
Butt if highmust imust, hand then He pis tol
yer honer Propper. Hile kepe if you Pleas 1
da or 2 Inn Hobs Skewer hit Eye cos y — Poll
av got 2 hits on her 2 Eyes^ wich makes hir
luk Ilk ha Pie Rat, Sea Inn assow she shoes
black Cull Hers, the wind his Rit aft, hand
Eyemust drive hay 4 hit for Sum Tim. Eye
ave got hay sea Grit, hand praps 2, 2 Tell yer
honer. Sow till then yer honer^s um Bell sar-
vant 2 Come and
Sir John Truepeeny, barren nit.
Hit set Era.''
Like two well-paid sucking diplomatists^ the
friends exchanged credentials. Both were much
astonished at the impudence of Mr. Midshipman
Slowberry, who had thus shamefully taken
advantage of Jack's ignorance ; for it was ap-
parent that he knew nothing of the precious
contents of the insolent note forwarded, in his
name, to Mr. Singleheart.
VOL. IT D
50 JACK A8H0BE.
<< It is but of little use," said Sir Edward,
^* to speculate upon Jack's doings, for some
days at least Really I don't fear much for
him. He has applied neither to you nor to
the bank for cash, and the way in which it is
apparent that he is defeating the bumboat
woman's machinations, and punishing her for
them into the bargain, displays great tact and
shrewdness."
*^ I should, lawyer as I am, and thus bound to
respect the laws, wish to break them in a slight
manner, by breaking this impudent Mr. Slow-
berry's pate. Though I am no longer young,
my arm is still strong enough to wield a strong
cudgel — ^"
^' Nonsense. Leave him to me. I like Jack^s
feeling for his old shipmate. Let us go to the
admiral's office, and see what we can do in the
matter."
Thither they repaired, and found three or
four admirals with Captain Firebrass, and some
other captains. The conversation turned upon
no other subject than Sir John.
" O here comes Sir Edward Fortintower !*•
JACK A8H0BB. 61
said Captain Firebrass. *' Any news of your
kinsman, and my late captain of the forecastle ?
He has vanished like a water-spout. It is now
one o'clock) and no tidings have been obtained
of him since he and his girl so cleverly evaded
the constables last night''
*^ I don't know more than yourself— but t
do not fear much on his account."
'^ Oh ! I see that screw, the landlord of the
Blue Posts — let^s have him in, and hear the true
account of his disappearance,** said one of the
admirals.
This was done, and the whole party were
made exceedingly merry at the relation of
the various fun that had been exhibited ; but
they were all seized with a sudden respect for
Jack, when they heard that he had kept him-
self quite sober during the whole evening, and
that he had made the landlord bring him three
bottles of spring water, which he had passed off
for Geneva.
The landlord of the Blue Posts then took
his opportunity respectfully to inquire if any of
the gentlemen present could inform him
d2
52 JACK A6H0BS*
where Sir John's lawyer or agent oould be
found.
Mr. Singleheart immediatdj stepped forward,
and the conscientious landlord placed in his
hands a tremendous bill, for supper^ lodgings,
breakages, and the hire of musicians, servants,
and constables — ^among which items the viol
that had served as a pillory for Poll's head
was not forgotten.
Mr. Singleheart looked over the bill with
unfeigned astonishment, and then announced
the astounding sum total to the gentlemen
about him. It amounted to two hundred and
fifty-three pounds seventeen shillings and nhie-
pence three farthings. Extortion is always
very particular as to fractions.
It appears t9 me,** said Mr. Singleheart,
that supposing there were fifty persons in-
vited, they must have drunk at least three
bottles of the most expensive wines a-piece.
Here is glass and china enough broken to fit
out any shop in the town. However, it would
be silly in me to quarrel with the items, wh&k I
don^t intend to pay a farthing of the sum total.
I have my client's instructions to that efiect.'*
JACK A6HOR£. 53
Jack's letter was read, which afforded infinite
amusement to all present, excepting mine host.
He looked bluer than his own posts, and began
a whining expostulation.
^ Who hired the roomq?" aaid Mr. Singleheart.
** Mrs. Snowdrop," answered mine host, rue*
fully.
** Who ordered the supper ?^
" Mrs- Snowdrop.**
*' Who invited the guests ?**
♦*Mr8. Snowdrop."
** Who ordered the band, the wines, the ex-
tra waiters ?'
*• Mrs. Snowdrop.**
«< And who destroyed all this furniture but
the guests that Mrs. Snowdrop invited, who in
their drunkenness have committed all this de*
irastationp Mrs. Snowdrop, to be sure. It
appears, by your own showing, that my client
had not even touched any of these vast
varieties of intoxicating liquors enumerated in
your very singular bill. To Mrs. Snowdrop,
then, you must look for payment.**
*^ But it was all in the name of Sir John
Truepenny."
54 JACK A8H0EE.
** And then--8upposing Mrs* Snowdrop bad
ordered it in the name of Admiral Sir Isaac
Coffin, would your case be better ? You have
just told us that Sir John was brought to your
house completely dmnk. He could not, had
he been so inclined, have given you a legal
order for this expenditure — ^but he did not —
he denies it— -he says that he ordered nothing,
and that he broke nothing, and very rightly
adds that he will pay for nothing."
*<But the bass-vioV said Captain Firebrass,
laughing. ** Til never own Sir John as a
shipmate, if he don't pay for that. I would
give a dozen of wine to have seen Poll's head
through it, and she taken in tow by Jack, as
Jack ought to have done, she being a disabled
ship, out of the action.^'
** The bass-viol must have a case to itself
** It is already in so bad a case, that a case
will now be of no service to it," said Fire-
brass.
*^ I see the fiddle down in the bill at twenty
guineas, I am struck at the moderation of the
charge ; get Mrs. Snowdrop to pay it ; and
JACK ASHORE. 55
afterwards it shall be a matter of account be-
tween her and Sir John Truepenny.^
The landlord of the Blue PoRts, thinking
that no time was to be lost, posted off) with a
fresh heading to his bill, to lay it before the
discomfited bumboat woman. What ensued
at this meeting we cannot just now record.
Sir Edward took this opportunity to apply
for the discharge of quartermaster Giles Grimm.
It was not only obtained immediately, but ob-
tained honourably and profitably for the old
seaman. He was immediately placed as a pen-
sioner of the most favoured class in Greenwich
Hospital, with leave to retire thither whenever
he chose to spend there the calm remnant of
his days in comfort and peace.
Mr. Slowberry's request for leave of absence
met a fate somewhat dissimilar. It flung Cap-
tain Firebrass into a passion, and that unfor-
tunate reefer having brought the captain ashore
in the barge, and being then in attendance on
the outside of the admiral's oflice, he was sent
for immediately.
He entered, nothing doubting the good sue-
56 JACK A8H0B£«
cess of his application, . and was, in his own
mind, already rejoicing in a month's jovial
cruise at the expense of the baronet, besides
other contingent advantages that must arise
from a connexion so auspiciously begun.
^^ Is that your handwriting ?*^ was the first
terrible question put to him by the terrible
voice of the terrible Captain Firebrass.
He confessed *' the harsh impeachment.''
'^ Now, don't lie, sir; did Sir John know
the contents of this impudent note ?'
*^ I gave it him to read, if you please, sir.^
^^ Did he read it ? Was he fully aware of
its precious contents ?**
'^ I cannot positively say. I thought, sir,
that there was no harm in putting in a good
word for myself."
" Your fidelity to your own interests shall
be fully rewarded. I have a great mind to
disrate you, and send you before the mast, and
thus make you take the situation that the per-
son whom you wished to make your dupe
formerly held — only you could never do his
duty. It is, therefore, my orders that you go
JACK A8H0&K* 57
on board immediately^ and consider yourself a
prisoner unti} I have settled, in my own mind,
some punishment that is meet for you."
** I would rather take it out in drink,'' was
the muttered reply, but in a tone so low that it
entirely escaped Captain Firebrass's ear. To
him it appeared that Mr. Slowberry looked
excessively contrite, as he touched his hat, and
retired with a downcast countenance.
Mr. Singleheart and Sir Edward began both
to laugh, as the answer tickled their fancy,
particularly that of the lawyer. This led to
an explanation, but it was not given until a
promise had been extorted from the captain
that he would look leniently upon the offence.
Trivial as was this circumstance, it operated
favourably for Slowben*y ; for that very delibe-
rate young officer, a little to his astonishment,
and a very great deal to his satisfaction, heard
no more of the matter.
The conversation at the office then fell upon
Sir John, and consisted principally of conjec-
tures as to the time and manner of that im-
D 5
58 JACK ASUOtfS.
portant personage's next appearance in public.
As, however. Jack only could verify or dis-
prove them, we must still remain in the dark
for some little time.
TACK A8H0RB. 99
CHAPTER III
Jack emergoft firom obtcnritj gloriousl? — Hints for making
pageants and getting np processions— A barber's od&^Pride
and profundity— The pomps and vanities of this wicked
world displayed, and something else.
For four long, long daysy everything connected
with our dear Jack was mystery, doubt, and
assumption. He was talked of everywhere,
and seen nowhere. He had been put to death
in various ways by various descriptions of per-
sons, and had slain himself in as great a variety
of manners. This non-appearance had almost
driven thirteen conscientious Jews to suicide,
and threw several tavern-keepers into so dread-
ful a depression of spirits, that something fatal
to them was apprehended.
60 JACK ASUOBE.
On SaCardaj night, the rumour that Sir
John had departed this life gave place to cxie
quite aa distrefifiing — that he had only departed
from Portsmouth ; for the pious tradesmen of
the place would as soon have heard of his death,
as that any rival town should enjoy the expendi-
ture that it was thought probable that he would
make. In this wish we include only that low
class, much too numerous in sea-ports, that
prey upon the unwary and the ignorant of
both her majesty^'s and the mercantile navy.
On Sunday morning there was a briskness,
a vivacity, and a look of great intelligence
upon the countenances of a vast number of
seamen and their respectable handmaids. In
several places on the fortifications, and in the
less genteel parts of the various townships that
surround the harbour of Portsmouth, there
were small bills posted, inviting all true British
tars to witness a British tar^s wedding, inti-
mating that, on the return from church, there
would be a scramble for shillings and half-
crowus, in honour of the occasion* The time
was fixed for Monday morning next, and the
JACK ASHDIUI. 61
iiQe of the pcooesooD indioited. As the Old
Glories were called upon, by name, to attend in
aa great a number as tbey oould, no doubt re-
maiaed that the nuptials were to be those of
Sir Jchtk Truepenny, though there was much
conjecture as to who was to be the brida
This announcement threw three distinct par-
ties into the miserables. Sir Edward and Mr.
Singlebeart were excessively annoyed, and Mr.
Scrivener and the fair Eugenia outrageously
angry. But what was the annoyance of the
one party, and the anger of the other, compared
to the rage of Mrs* Snowdrop ? It was frantic
— it was maniacal. In the first place, she had
gone to great expense in preparing the aquatic
welcome for her future 8on*in-law, as she vainly
imagined he would be ; in the next, she had
made herself liable for the repayment of one
bundi'ed and thirty pounds that Mr« Scrivener
had advanced to Jack ; and lastly, and most
heavily, she had been saddled with all the ex*
penses incurred at the Blue Posts. The saddle
had certainly been clapped on the right back,
but that back was sore with the blows and
62 JACK ASHORE.
tumbles she had received in an enoounter with
the detested Poll, and her heart was still
sorer.
We make scarcely any mention of poor Susan
Snowdrop. She pined and wept alone. She
seemed to live in a world hung with black. She
had bidden adieu to everything pleasing. Hope
had died within her, and she had vainly wished
to have died with it. Now everything wearied
the poor creature. Even her novels were dis-
tasteful to her. She hid herself from the sight
of her mother, and she was only less miserable
when she felt herself secure from intrusion, and
that her solitude was complete.
The whole of Sunday, the three parties whom
we have mentioned were vainly indefatigable
in their search for Sir John Truepenny. They
were^ therefore, content per force, (that being
forced to be content, we use upon good autho-
rity,) until the all-important Monday.
The day broke beautifully, and the streets
were all bustle very early in the morning. The
roadsteads and the harbour poured forth their
myriads of blue jackets, among which a large
JACK A8HO&S. 68
body of the Old Glories were conspicuous by
the white ribbons in their jackets^ and the
laurel leaves in their bats.
The various officers of the navy and the
army* all affecting to despise such foolery,
found themselves, however, getting the front
places through which it was supposed that Sir
John would pass. Officers of the higher grades
crowded the windows of the hotels, and the
port<»adniiral's residence in High Street dis-
played at its windows a great show of rank,
bravery, and beauty. Nine o^clock, however,
had almost arrived, and, as yet, there was no
note of preparation. The gentry began to fear
a hoax, and to think of breakfast. This fear
was soon dissipated.
As the clock struck nine, every bell in every
church rang out their stunning peals. This
clamour continued unabated until ten, when
the gates of an old and little noticed yard were
flung open, and from it the glory of the day
emerged.
But, before we give the programme of Jack's
procession, we must detail a few of the prepara*
$4 JACK A8HORK.
tions that were made to reoeive him od its route.
Airs. Snowdrop was not a woman to remain
patient under injuries, or humble under insulu
If she oould not procure indemnity, she was
determined to have revenge. Just where the
principal street made an elbow that turned it
towards the church, there was another narrow
street terminating in the centre of the convexity.
After this turning, the main street itself lost
its imposing name, and much of its width. It
was in this narrow street that Mrs. Snowdrop
had placed her ambuscade.
She had very many debtors, therefore many
partisans, and the pitiful tale that she had told
of Jack's ill usage of her daughter procured
her many assistants. She had also corrupted a
good miany of the soldiers in garrison, and had
at her command all the low bhickguards that
loved mischief for the mischieTs sake. The
pickpockets were with her — ^man and boy —
and some few of the ugliest and most drunken
of the fish-fags.
Mounted in a cart filled with rotten eggs,
and animal and vegetable filth of all descrip-
JACK ASHOBK. 65
tioDS, she awaited with a grim joy the bridal
procession. Another cart laden with manure
was stationed immediately beyond the elbow,
surrounded by hundreds of vagabonds well
versed in missile warfare.
We must now return to the important Sir
John Truepenny, who was totally unconscious
of the honours that awaited him. In the first
place, with shouts and screams, and the rattling
of old saucepans, and with the assistance of
everything that could make horrible discord,
came all the dirty, unwashed, ill-breeched
blackguards, not engaged by Mrs. Snowdrop—
a party purely honest in their acclamations,
for they were too numerous to be bribed.
They were waiters on Providence, and the
^ pickers up of unconsidered trifles,^ determined
to labour in their vocations should there be a
row, and to make one if there was not. All
these were stentorian specimens of the vocd
popuU.
Next came all the unhired players of the
various instruments that rejoiced the inhabitants
of Portsmouth. Among these were the halt,
66 JACK ASHOEEt
the maimed, and the blind. They, too, devoutly
hoped to pick up some of the crumbs that fell
from the rich man^s table.
A party of constables, hired for the occasion,
with a prudence not expected from Jack, came
next. They were honest and honourable men,
and scorned to hold sinecures. They, there>
fore, belaboured with their truncheons to the
right and left, and all before them — the desuU
tory musicians deriving the greatest benefit
from their civil zeaL
A compact and cleanly-dressed body of
marines came next. Their orderly and decorous
deportment did them high credit. They could
not have been more comme U fauU had they
been on parade. Perhaps their hats, stuck upon
fewer upright hairs than usual, were carried a
little more on one side, and their pigtails a
little more proudly and rigidly stiff.
Then came the most glorious part of the
show — ^a band of women, wanting nothing to
make them the .pride and glory of their coun-
try but modesty. Being all dressed in white,
and perfectly sober, with ruddy health glow-
JACK ABHORB* 67
ing in tbeir cheeks, their appearance was like a
parterre of flowers on a May morning. They
wore no caps, and their hair was simply braided
with red and white roses. They walked four
abreast, hand in hand, and they gently swung
their arms to and fro^ as they chanted rather
than sang the following silly rhyme, composed
by the bard we have before mentioned — the
barber — who erected his pole and lathered his
customers in Pig's Court, Little White Hart
Alley. The residence of a poet so renowned
should be handed down to posterity.
No more in the teeth of the gale,
No more on the high topsail yard.
Shall oar seaman lie out and hold hard
As he hanls in the slack of the sail.
His stoimtails for Brer are stow *d,
Bo'san*8 pipes shall annoy him no more,
Middle watches he swears may be blow'd.
Now bold*bearing Jack's come ashore.
With beauty end money galore-
Jack's ashore !
Jack's noble and true to his Poll,
Although he's a grand barrow-night.
And she can show lore and show fight
More than any fantastical doll.
68 JACK A8U0KB.
Jack njrs, " A d— -d ahame it would be.
To throw bjr the oomjiaae aaboie
That aerred bin ao well whan at aea"—
What can a true neainan aaj more 1
With hia bride and hia monej galore,
Jack*8 aafaore !
Sir Jc^ will remember poor Jack,
When he aeea him paid off, worn and M.
He's a apooney who need to be tM,
Sir John'a noble heart will go back
To the time when he watch'd on the meat,
Amidat the wild harricane*a roar.
And Sir John, for the aake of the paat.
Will welcome the sailor the more.
And ahaie with him money galore.
Jack'a ashore !
Sir John, when the king you get near.
As he aeiaea your honeat hard hand.
And wiahea yon pleaanre on land,
Juat whiaper a word in hia ear,
'Bout atopping of grog and the cat.
And leare now and then for the shor e—
How loyal his tara are — ^mind that—
Do this, God will bless yon the more,
With your bride and your money galore.
Jack*«aahore
JACK A8HOKE. 69
When these syrens had chanted this rubbish
all through, which they did so that erery word
of it was distinctly heard, they began it again,
merely for the sake of playing a more im-
portant part in the scene
After them followed the hired musicians,
who played only a bar or two of music between
each stave. We can say but little in praise of
the uniformity of the band — their habiliments
being as various as their instruments, and their
persons, instruments, and habiliments being all
the worse for wear.
Next followed a posse of watermen, in the
centre of whom, borne upon the shoulders of
twenty men, was a new wherry — ^light yet
strong — which Sir John had purchased to be
rowed for on the following day. Others of the
watermen carried the oars and sails.
Then appeared a vast crowd of seamen, each
with a girl on his arm — and all with white
favours. This division of the procession marched
in most disorderly order; but as they were all
merry, and but few of them intoxicated, they
70 JACK ASHOAK.
contributed a little to the brilliancy, and much
to the hilarity of the scene.
Next in order was a well«executed effigy of
a Jew, seated on an old chair. Two droll
fellows, in the garb of seamen, accompanied
this stuffed and painted figure, which was car-
ried on poles by four stout fellows. The two
supposed seamen played all manner of pranks
with the figure — tweaking its nose, pulling its
beard, making sham bargains with it, and
giving it all manner of vulgar abuse. This ex-
hibition being quite level to the ideas of the ma^
jority of the spectators, afforded infinite amuse-
ment, and drew forth vociferous applause.
This was succeeded by a man bearing three
golden balls, and immediately after him a figure
made to represent a pawnbroker, mounted and
carried in a manner similar to the Jew. Two
brazen-faced hussies waited upon mine honoured
uncle — and he did not fare better with them
than did the Jew with the sailors. They re-
proached him with having taken his own wife
in pledge for five shillings, which he had lent
JACK A8HOKE. 71
on her to a jolly sailor who had made her drunk,
and that he did not find out the mistake until
she sobered herself by giving him a sound
drubbing.
A few itinerant tumblers and mountebanks
followed, with three hurdygurdies, two hand*
organs, one man with a pipe and tabor, a danc-
ing bear, a dozen dancing dogs, and a few
iDonkeya. This portion of the show was rather
a blot upon its brilliancy, as they were very
clamorous for copper from the welUfiUed win-
dows of each side of the streets.
Several respectable tradesmen, with white
favours, now walked arm-in-arm. There was
nothing particular about them, but a quiet
decorum of conduct, in strong contrast with
the wildness of the other portions of the pro-
cession.
Then came the more interesting part of the
whole. It was a large number of the Old
Glories, all dressed alike, with glazed hats
with the word ** Glory" emblazoned in gold on
the front; spotless blue Jacks, a white bow
in each, silk neckerchiefs tied with the sailor's
73 JACK A8HO&B.
knotf a mow-white banyan beneath their jackets,
and a glorious nosegay stuck in their bosoms,
and white jean trousers, finished by white
stockings^ and very neat little shoes. Not
knowing very well what to do with their hands^
there being no enemy in sight, they each of them
carried a very formidable stick, and thus they
formed a body-guard to the immortal Jack.
Now Jack had hired a light and large spring
wagon, such as is usually employed for the
removal of furniture. This, by the aid of
canvass and paint, he had transformed into an
admirable likeness of the hull of a smart frigate.
On the deck of this representation of a man-of-
war was placed an elevated platform, on which
sat, on two high*backed antique chairs, Sir
John and Miss Mary Macannister. There
was a table before them covered with green
baize, on which stood two decanters of port
wine, and between them a large pile of silver
coins. There were glasses alsa Over the
heads of both waved out the ancestral ban-
ner of his house, containing the emblazonry
of the extinct peerage which was to be revived
JACK A8H0BB. 79
]Q his person. It streamed forth gaily and
broadly in the summer breeze, and was hung
on a lofty staff, the most remarkable feature of
the pageant. A smaller banner, with a similar
emblem, floated at the bow of the frigate, whilst
the union-jack honoured the stem.
On the deck of the simulated vessel, which
was a good deal below the platform on which
the bride and bridegroom were seated, stood
the bridesmaids and bridesmen, consisting of
six jolly tars, and as many questionable ladies —
questionable in all but their beauty — which was
unquestionable. Together they made a most
attractive group, and the only drawback to it
was the eternal glasses of wine that they could
not dispense with.
This car was drawn by four beautiful bays,
profusely decorated with white bows. On a
small cushion, in the front of the deck, were
placed Jack's old tarry trousers, his dirtiest
working jacket^ his marling-spike and serving
mallet, and the whole was surmounted by two
crossed tobacco-pipes. This regalia drew much
VOL. II. £
74 JACK ASHORE.
observation, and obtained much comxnendft*
tion.
Jack was dressed simply, but neatly, as a
foremast-man of the ** Old Glory," wearing the
ship's hat. He was elaborately dean, but
looked flushed and excited, and, in turns, too
bashful and too impudent. He bore in his
left hand a tumbler containing red wine, which
he placed now and then to his lips, merely
sipping, and evidently wishing only to take re*
fuge from his mauvaise honte in some empldy-
ment
And his Poll — she was glorious as Apollo^
and with the slight, the disagreedde drawback
of two greenish-tinted black eyes, almost as
beautiful. Her look was more than assured-^
it was magnificent in its impudence. It was
not the stem, solemn, grave pride of some aris-
tocratical ass— hers was the merry triumph of
animal spirits, good fortune, recklessness, and
consciousness of great personal charms. She
had a kindly glance of the eye, a wink, and a
smile, for every one. When the mob dapped
JACK ASHORE. 75
their bands as she passed, slie did not con-
descend to bow her thanks, but clapped too in
very blithesomeness of heart
Her dress — we have but little to remark
upon that, as it was the bridal uniform, and
the material was costly. The corsage was
very low, and the sleeves so looped up at the
shoulders, that tliey displayed a very large por-
tion of a well*rounded arm. Her waist was
encircled by a white broad ribbon tied behind,
in boardingHMhool fashion, with long flowing
ends. Those were days of short dresses, and
PolPs robes were curtailed to the very verge of the
fashion, and a little beyond. But the spectator
was well indemnified for the paucity of the
drapery by the plumpness of the leg, and the
shape of the elegantly-turned ankle. Her Hilk
stockings blushed, at their own exposure^ a red
deeper than ever silk stocking blushed before.
And this was the healthy, jovial, and attractive
Poll
Many were the stoppages, and loud the
huzzas, and cries of ** Change for a penny ! "
No procession was ever more enjoyed by the
E 2
76 JACK ASUOAB*
mass. Some of the superior naval and military
officers smiled contemptuously ; but it was re-
marked, that those who wore mockery in their
faces, passed for neither the best nor the bravest
of their class. It is a grand) and ought to be
a touching spectacle — that of the hilarity of the
over-worked many. The pageant before them
wasy if you please, foolish ; but it was neither
won by blood, nor wrung from an oppressively*
taxed community. It spoke neither of feudal
tyranny, nor of civic exaction and monopoly.
It bore no emblems of servitude, and riveted
no chains of slavery. It was an ovation to the
happiness of humble humanity. All glory be
to Jack's bridal procession !
Among those who constituted this raree-show,
many were sublimated exceedingly, but none
more so than Old Giles Grimm, who having,
through the means of Sir Edward, procured
his discharge, now acted as steersman to the
mimic ship, a wheel having been erected near
its stern for the express purpose* With won^
derful gravity did the veteran turn the spokes
of that wheel, whilst his self-satisfactory opera-
JACX ASHORE. 77
dons bad do more to do with the course and
prog^ress of the car, than has the sovereign of
these mighty states with the measures by
which they are too often deteriorated. *^ Very
well dice^— -dice — ^luff you may ! no near, boy !
no near ! ^ with other expressions of the ti-
moneer, were continually on his lips. Exquisite
halluciDation this of Old Grimm's, but not uncom-
mon ; for how many solemn heads of families,
who fancy that they rule and direct all, are
exactly in the old sailor^s predicament !
Our hero was sadly wanting in the look
heroicaL He could not brazen it out, and he
would not betray any appearance of shame ; so
he looked dogged and sullen, and when any
fool, glittering in gold lace, sneered, he looked
absolutely fierce. Jack should have kept his
eyes fixed constantly upon those below him,
and he would have met only radiant and happy
faces ; but he could not help looking at the first-
floor windows, being exactly on a level with
them, and it was from thence that the * pishing'
and * pshawing^ alone proceeded.
* '* Dice,'*tbe usual way of saying " thas."
78 JACX A8HOES*
When they had got nearly opposite the
admiral's house, a stoppage, not certainly in-
tentional on the part of Jack, took place, and
the ode in his honour was chanted with singular
emphasis. It did not please. Some distin-
guished officers cried << Fool !"* ^* For shame I"
'^ Go home !" << Get to a madhouse !" with other
bridal compliments. At this Jack stood up,
and folding his arms, returned their sarcasms
with a stare of defiance. The mob cheered
him enthusiastically, and would soon have vin-
dicated their insulted hero with a shower of
stones. Happily, the stoppage was removed,
and the mass moved on, Jack still standing in
an attitude of stern defiance. A little farther
on, and he came opporite to Captain Firebrass :
here the habit of discipline was so strong upon
Sir John, that forgetting his wounded dignity, he
touched his hat to his old commander. The
captain returned the salute with a hearty cheer,
and the mob immediately gave **01d Glory**
three tremendous rounds of applause. Jack
recovered his equanimity, and again seated him-
self.
^ACK ASHORE. 79
As they passed the tMiIcony in which were
Mr. Scrivener and Eugenia Elfrida, the former
glared upon Jack like a ravenous beast from
which his prey had escaped ; and the young
lady, with more malice than could be expected
in a countenance that was formed for mild and
sweet expression, merely ejaculated, ^^ Nasty,
brazen-faced hussy !" — words that, most happily
for the sake of order, were not heard by the
lady whom they were meant so politely to de-
signate.
The happy pair had still to pass Sir Edward
and Mr. Singleheart. Directly Jack perceived
them, he stood up, took off his hat, and made
them respectful obeisance. Sir Edward shook
his head sorrowfully, yet with the kindest look ;
whilst the lawyer doubled his fist at his contu-
macious client, but the rigour and eflScacy of
the threat were entire defeated by the laugh
which accompanied it The procession passed
on->^-r-^to its destruction.
AO JACK ASaOBE.
CHAPTER IV.
Replete with grand eTenU — A battle right royal, and rigbf
royally fought^ Ve! victia I " Vain pomp and glory of the
world, I hate ye!** — A marriage ceremony nnceremonionaly
performed — The marriage feast, and other important mat-
ters.
O for a simile ! A simile ! a simile f my
kingdom for a simile ! Alas ! are not all the
best of these poetical amplifications pre-occupied
— and the bad among them made intolerable by
the still worse way that they have been used P
It is a battle simile of which I am in need —
and where shall I find a new one ? All the
animal world has been exhausted, from a herd
of lions to a flight of locusts. The rushing
winds ; the stormy and the storming seas ; the
JACK ASHOHE. SI
overwhelming avalanche ; the irresistible thun-
derbolt ; the volcano with its molten rivers of
metal; the city ^absorbing earthquake; these have
all been employed, sometimes well, very often
indifferently, and innumerable times execrably,
to illustrate the clash and commixing of human
battle.
There is nothing left me but the steam-en-
gine* Shall I burst a boiler ? No, not now.
I cannot spare that grand simile for a novel in
three volumes, when I shall want it, under a
dozen shapes, for my epic in two dozen books.
At present, therefore, we will aspire only to
the narrative.
Now, already had the van of the procession
passed by the treacherous ambuscade, when it
was met and stopped by the wagon-load of
manure which was overturned exactly across
the street. This a£Bicting impediment, which
was, at first, looked upon as accidental^ packed
the ranks into a dense crowd, as those before
were pressed upon by those advancing from the
the rear. At length a halt took place along
the whole line, and this brought the bridal car
£ 5
82 JACK A8U0KE.
opposite Mrs. Snowdrop's cart, in the elbow of j
the main street Impeded, nay absolutely {
obstructed in front, and taken in flank, to use
a military phrase, Jack found himself in a false
position. He soon found himself in something
worse.
^* O you strumpet — you painted nastinesa*-*
how dare you, drab ! how dare you ! — take that,
and that, and that— go it, my boys— -now^s the
time I Don't spare that noodle of a cully —
bridal cake for yer both !'*
This was the Amazonian speech of the more
than Amazonian bumboat woman. It was the
signal for an attack — and such an attack ! Eggs
of the most foetid corruption, and filth of the
most disgusting odour, covered, with the rapidity
of a miracle, the bride, bridegroom, and all the
bridal attendants in the can Both Jack and
Poll had more evil tastes in their mouths than
ever yet afflicted, at one time, poor humanity.
They were also, for some minutes,, blinded.
Many have suffered from a masked battery,
but this battery had the singular faculty of
clapping its mask of nastiness upon the counter
nances of its victims. •
JACK ASHORE. 83
It was too much. The lion-hearted Jack,
for a short space^ bent before it. The ancestral
banner of his house went down, and the loud
shouts of bis presumed victorious assailants
proclaimed their triumph.
Now for the battle-cry— -"Verum dammee
raro ruai ! Change for a penny I"
^' Grimm Giles, to the rescue 1 " and he came
all grimly. He too had suffered— «he was egg^
encased, and his aged eyes bunged up with
mud of a very dubious character. But a well-
directed dead cat coming full upon his wea^
ther*beaten countenance, it cleared his visuals,
and be opened his eyes and beheld — what
horrors ! what shame I what a tarnish to true
glory!
There was the beauteous queen of the revels
down, prostrate upon the deck; Jack himself
was seen with his back to the shower of abomina>-
ble missiles, and stooping low his head, whilst
shouts of mockery and laughter spoke of the
joys of the treacherous foe.
Grimm Giles strode forward and again lifted
the banner — disregardless of a volley of stones.
84 JACK ASHOH?U
filth, and the more weighty shots of cats and
dogs, living and dead. He did more --he
called upon the **01d Glories^ to man the
decks, and do their duty — and they did it.
Their difficulties were extreme. Jammed in
the narrow elbow of a street, they could neither
debouche nor develope their strength ; the fire
from the overturned wagon in front became
most annoying ; the horses began to show symp*
toms of fright, and after being unharnessed,
they began trampling upon the crowd ; and,
above all, they had but little ammunition.
When Jack's shipmates got into the car, they
faced Mother Snowdrop's battery with three
hearty cheers, returned them as much of their
own ammunition as lay upon the decks, then
gave them the bottles and the glasses, and
finally the silver that had been reserved for the
scramble.
This last expensive volley turned the tide of
success in their favour ; for the hungry and
penniless raggamuffins, finding that they were
battered with silver shot, instead of keeping up
the fire, in spite of all Mrs. Snowdrop's impre-
JACK ASHOB£. 80
cations, went heartily to loggerheads with each
other for the coin; and Grimm Giles, taking ad-
vantage of the lull, with the Truepenny banner
in one hand, and an immense shin-bone of a
dead ass with the flesh and hair on in the other,
led the attack upon the cart itself, in which
the Amazonian general and her filthy anrimuni*
tion were stationed, and won it in a moment.
la the mean time, the wagon in front had
been taken by storm, and as many of its de»
fenders as were caught were beaten to the
endangering of their lives, and plunged in their
own filth. The row was dreadful, the con-
fusion intense, and many serious injuries in-
flicted* Sensible people in the crowd called
upon every one to disperse, and this advice was
strengthened by the appearance of the guard
from the garrison, and all but the very worst
characters made the best of their way from
what they had expected to find a scene of mirth
and fun.
Jack did not accompany the attack upon the
bumboat woman ; but telling his shipmates to
pocket the money that was left, he applied him-
86 JACK A8H0BK.
self to assist Polly and the bridesmaid out of
the meUe' Poll was seriously bruised, as well
as uuiversally bespattered; but, though her
form was beaten down by the volley that had
been showered upon her, her spirit was as
lofty as ever. She would not listen a moment
to Jack's entreaties to go home and postpone
the ceremony until another day ; she would
not give the dropsical old cat such a triumph,
not she. So they contrived to gain the shelter
of a house in the neighbourhood, and with an
assiduous application of soap and water, and a
makeshift change of garments, the happy
pair were just enabled to save the time, and
got married in the presence of only a very
small and battered fragment of their morning's
pomp.
After this ceremony, they were conveyed in
a circuitous manner, in a fly, to a small house
that they heard was to be let furnished, in
Porchester, and thus, in comparative solitude,
they spent their wedding-day — one of the most
miserable upon record.
It would be tedious to narrate all the occur-
JACK A8HDKE.
87
rences and aoddenU that took place at and on
the termination of this general riot. It was a
merciful dispensation of Providence that no lives
were lost Many were the pockets that were
emptied, and sundry the heads that were broken.
Before the crowd entirely dispersed, having been
disappointed of their promised scramble, they,
with prompt mob justice, indemnified them*
selves by breaking up the car, and appro-
priating to their own use such portions of
it as they fancied might be serviceable to
them*
But we must now return to the authoress of
all this foul disarray, the vindictive Snowdrop.
She showed but little mercy, and did not expe-
rience much. The conquerors endangered her
life by suffocation, having rubbed her in the
abominable accumulations of her own cart;
after which she was taken by the police to jail
for assault and riot ; and as many persons were
dangerously hurt, the magistrates would not
admit her to baiL Thus she had small scope for
self-gratulation on the issue of her plans of
revenge.
88 JACK ASHORE.
Giles Grimm having collected most of the
parties who had been invited to the bridal feast,
officiated as host, in the room of the absent
Jack, and, taking all things into consideration,
they were more jovial and happy than might
have been expected. Giles, however, had the
intelligence to see, and the honesty to say, to
use his own expression, '* that poor Jack was
going to hell like a sky-rocket — that it was a
hard business, and required a long apprentice*
ship, say seven years, to learn how to come it
grand, and that he hoped some sensible man
would take Jack in tow before he foundered
right out. For his own part, though he was
now snug for life, with his wages in his pocket,
a pension coming in as regular as the morning
watch, and Greenwich Hospital under his lee
whenever he chose to bear up for a snug port ;
yet, seeing what a fool a thorough sailor made
of it ashore, he had a great mind to enter the
Old Glory again — that is, if they'd take him.
Yet he would wait a little longer, and see how
things turned up — he had been a father to Jack
ever since he was as high as his elbow, and so
JACK ASHOEE. 89
he would be kind to him a little longer — but
he must mind, in future^ how he behaved him-
aelf.'' !
The whole party applauded this resolution. i
He then continued to this effect : ** Messmates, {
hes and shes— just take a strand out of my j
yam — we've just stowed under hatches a jolly \
good dinner, and kept it company with wine,
my boys, that'll cost the mopusses— what then ?
— the dinner was ordered, and, eaten or not.
Jack would have to tell down the shiners — ^but
■
vast heaving — Jack's a good 'un ; but seeing as
how, if he had more money than queen Sheba, he
could not stand the firing that's been going on
all day at his expense^ so we'll just have in
the bill now, and count all the marines — so
they sha'n't pitch it into him for wine we've not
had. But think ye I'm going to break up the
yarmony ? — no, no — but we'll drink, for the rest
of the day, grog, like seamen and seamen's
gurls as we be — and I'll stand treat — so, here,
landlord, heave in sight, wull ye — and pass your
accounts/'
Mine host, much to his annoyance, was com*
90 JA.CK A8H0R£.
pelled to produce his bill, which Giles Grimm
checked with all imagiaablegravityt and having
got the necessary corrections and deductions
made, he stowed it away saCcJy in bis tobacco-
box. ^* Now, landlord, we must vear and haul
upon my cable^ so lef s us have a gallon of raal
jamaky and lots of spring water J*
This arrangement was, in truth, more agree-
able to the company than if they had been
drinking the expensive wines for which they
had no relish ; so, after a little fastidiousness,
for the sake of good breeding, on the part of the
ladies, they all recommenced their enjoyment
with a double zest Several sea song^ were
sung, and much fun ensued. Afterwards they
danced, and ultimately they paired off, quite con-
tent with the day and its various amusements.
Even Giles Grimm grew tolerably composed,
and when he had seen the last of his guests (for
his guests they had become) out, with a hearty
^*^God bless you,|shipmate,^ he smoked three
pipes in a state of ruminating bliss, during
which he made very wise reflections on the
difficulty of being happy in a station to which
JACK ASHOBB. 91
one has not been bred ; and this gave him so
many absurd ideas, that he first began chuck-
ling, and at length fell asleep; and a little after-
wards burst out into a regular guffaw of a
laugh, as he dreamed of the various adventures
of a fish out of water with Jack's head on,
trying to ride a hunting with his majesty's
hounds, in full chase of a stag.
But where was Jack ? Ashore — ^and as mi*
serable as if he had been married a whole
year.
92 JACK A8U0HK*
CHAPTER V.
The bamboat woman and the lawyer — Jack's weddiog-day^-
finds himself not without comforters on the pitiful eyent->
The gentle bride's gentle anticipations^A long lecture on
dignity of conduct and refinement of deportment} with much
other useful sermonising.
Is there any one who can pity a vindictive,
vulgar woman, who has fallen in the snare of
her own evil imaginings ? In all Mrs. Snow-
drop's schemes upon Sir John she had been
solely actuated by very base motives, among
which avarice stood predominant. Foiled and
defeated, shame, as yet, had never visited her.
The rage, the fury of revenge had mastered, in
her breast, every other feeling. As she lay
tossing on the floor in the room in which she
JACK A8HOBE* 98
had been accommodated in the prisons for she
had broken the single chair in her indiscrimi-
nating passion, the contemplation of murdering
Jack and his bride gave her the only relief of
which she was capable.
She planned their deaths by a hundred vile
and secret ways. She even went so far in as-
sassination as to devise actual means, and to
look out for instruments. She speculated on
the probabilities of success and of detection —
she imagined herself to have succeeded — and
she was glad in the thought, until the idea
struck her that she should not be gratified
unless her victims were previously aware,
before they died, that to her they would owe
their deaths.
She at length became quiet and sullen, and,
seated on the floor, she remained in a state of
savage apathy ; for there is an apathy that is not
so apathetic but that it will brood over dreadful
thoughts. While she was in this state of mind,
Mr. Scrivener walked into the room, and the key
was turned upon him. He shuddered as he
beheld the spectacle before him, and looked
94 JACK ASHOAE.
aoxiously at the door. Ashamed of his mo-
mentary alarm, he put on his habitual business
smile, and thus addressed the woman, who did
not even notice him by a look.
** Mrs. Snowdrop — my dear Mrs. Snowdrop
— ^my good Mrs. Snowdrop — ^really , really now —
do not take on so— I oome to you as your friend
— I am your friend — I wish to see justice
done to you— do you not know me, Mrs. Snow-
drop T
** Yes, lawyer ; you hold my acceptance for
a hundred and thirty pounds."
" A mere trifle, my dear madam — ^nothing —
it is really nothing to a lady of your known
property — I wish I held it for three thousand
and thirty — ha, ha, ha, good Mrs. Snowdrop !
— a hundred and thirty — pooh ! to mention
a trifle."
*' Don't laugh— don't sneer ! d — n you —
I wont put up with it A trifle— yes— a trifle
to the bloodsucker who gains it by writing a
few lines on a bit of parchment — who gains it
by usury and extortion — ^by^aking away their
all from those that have little; — ^but for me, who
JACK ASHOaE. 95
have slaved for every shilling of this money--
who have been tossed in the open boat in sleet
and snow and storm — have been cheated, re-
viledy insulted by the meanest— O you shark
among the unwary ! — out of my sight — you
are a curse to the eyes of a poor lone woman,
already too much curaed.^
^< Good Mrs. Snowdrop, I feel for you — upon
the honour of a gentleman I do. I come to
assist you as your friend ; to advise with you
as one labouring for your good.^
*^ Nice words; but I think, lawyer, that
both your friendriiip and your hate end all in
plucking away the money from the poor wretch
that gets within your clutches. How much are
you going to charge for this kind visit ? — But I
won*t pay you — I did not send for you — so
you may haul your wind and be off, and the
curse of the last man that you ruined go with
you !"
*^Dear Mrs. Snowdrop, why this unneces-
sary violence P Regard me as a rascal if you
will "
96 JACK A8HOEB.
** I do— make yourself perfectly sure of that,
lawyer.*'
"You cannot be sure of it — I am not certain
of it myself. I have very warm feelings to-
wards those whom I love.^^
" The Lord in his mercy help them !"
"So he does, madam. They prosper — all
have prospered who have ever been connected
with me.'*
" Your clients ?"
« And they too. Why not ? But I don't
wish you to trust to my probity or my natural
benevolence. We have just now the same
interest to cultivate — the same wrongs to re-
venge, and on the same person. Sir John
Truepenny, this upstart, pitch-de61ed baronet
of my creating, I do hate most cordially, most
legally."
"What has the hog-pated cully done to de-
serve such a distinction ?"
" Everything that could thwart my interests,
and wound my pride. But for me, he would
have still trembled under the fear of the lash.
JACK A6H0BE. 97
and died, as he had lived, an unknown and de-
spised common sailor. Now, Mrs. Snowdrop, I
will tell you what I have done for him.''
He then recounted, in a manner the most
flattering to himself, the trouble that he had
taken, and the exertions that he had made, to
trace him out; and he endeavoured tomake it ap-
pear the most disinterested and laudable action
that ever was inspired by an innate love of
justice. " Now," he concluded, " what is my
reward ? Thrown by with contempt, as a worn-
out tool. Others reap the fair recompense of
my labours ; even my expenses cavilled at and
disputed. Independently of the great moral
wrong done to me, I am nearly one hundred
and twenty pounds out of pocket.^'
Here Mrs. Snowdrop clapped her arms
akimbo, and closely imitating his mincing
voice, repeated his own words, *^ A mere trifle,
my dear sir. Nothing — it is really nothing to
a gentleman of your known property. Good
Mr. Scrivener, only one hundred and twenty
pounds ! Pooh ! to mention such a trifle !"
** And I would not, as you ought to have
VOL. II. F
98 JACir ASHOBS.
understood-— it is the base ingratitude of the
rascal that irritates me. Now, unfortunately,
as he is not in my legal power, I cannot do
him the justice that he deserves — ^but he has
wronged you — ^legally wronged you. I under-
stand that proceedings have been taken against
you for a debt which he and his riotous crew
contracted at the Blue Posts.^
And now the bumboat woman opened the
flood-gates of her eloquence. It was some
relief to abuse Jack even to a lawyer. In
that relief she indulged most unlimitedly.
For one hour and a half did he listen to her
outpourings patiently — nay, eagerly. When
she had finished, he rubbed his hands in a
paroxysm of pleasure, and commenced the office
of consoler.
^* Ohi Mrs. Snowdrop, notwithstanding ap-
pearances, you are a very fortunate woman.
Now do listen — do be persuaded. Pay this bill
of Mr. Layton of the Blue Posts immediately
— *pay it pitomptly, and you will have to pay it
simply. In this state of the proceedings the
costs cannot be much, and I fear that Mr.
JACK ASHORE. 99
Layitoo's costs yoa cannot recover from Sir
John ; for, as you ordered everything of Mr.
Layton, you are legally responsible. Pay the
bill, and I will arrest this betrayer of inno-
cence, this new-fangled Sir John, immediately.
But this is not the grand stroke, madam ! Oh,
na Bring your action for damages in your
daughter's name for breach of promise of mar-
riage. Lay them at ten thousand pounds — get
five. What a speech for counsel ! "
As he proceeded, his auditor warmed with the
same malignant feelings; and the final result
was, that she empowered him fully to act for
her, drew the money from the bank to satisfy
the entertainer of the Blue Posts, conjured
him to get her admitted to bail as soon as pos-
sible, and constituted him her attorney in every
sense of the word.
Mr. Scrivener departed, highly pleased with
the success of his mission, and prepared imme-
diatdy to commence double legal proceedings
against poor Jack.
And poor Jack we have too long neglected —
and OD his wedding night I Her ladyship, the
F 2
100 JACK ASHORE.
honoured wife of Sir John Truepenny, had
arrived at her new and temporary abode in the
yery worst of all possible humours. Before she
had alighted from the coach, she had boxed the
ears of all those within it, not excepting those
of her liege lord, for calling' her ^^ Poll,'' as of
old. All this was philosophically and quietly
submitted to, on the consideration of the pelting
and the ill usage to which she had been sub-
jected.
When she entered the house, the storm, in-
stead of subsiding, grew worse, and it was with
great difficulty that Jack could coax her lady-
ship to go to bed, and try to get some relief,
whilst messengers were despatched to their late
quarters for a fresh supply of clothes for both,
and much consolatory finery for her in par-
ticular.
Jack had her accompanied home by two of
his old shipmates, and the two bridesmaids.
The ladies, having got my lady into bed, retired
to another apartment to repair damages, and
left the three sailors to themselves. Now Jack
was excessively serious, and looked as little like
JACK ASHORE. 101
a bridegroom as it was possible to conceive.
So, with a sort of desperate sulleoness, he
ordered a deal table out into the little garden
behind the houses pipes, tobacco, and two gal»
Ions of swipes.
Brown and Jones, like two good sympa-
thizing messmates, determined to share his me*
lancholj and his beer ; so they all sate them-
selves down with more than Turkish gravity,
and soon reposed under a canopy of smoke
of their own creating. For an hour no one
spoke. So strong was the spirit of silence upon
them, that they lifted up the brown jugs to
their mouths, and replaced them on the table
cautiously.
The day was perfectly calm, and the smoke
hung about and enveloped them^ so that they
resembled three- ships in close action, and the
volumerof vapour liberally propelled from the
general white obscurity was not unlike tha^
which issues from the maindeck guns.
** Tom Brown I'' said Jack.
" Ay ! ay !'* was the brief answer.
No other sound was heard for another quarter
of an hour.
102 JACK A8HOEB.
^^ Jim Jones P* said Jack, still more so*
lemnly.
** Here !'* said Jones, using the exact tone
of voice with which he answered to his name
in the wateh-bill. But, for all the purposes of
conversation, he might as well not have been
there, or have been anywhere else. Jack only
puffed on the more furiously. After another
lengthened pause, Brown opened his jaws and
spoke.
*< Sir John !^ was discharged from one
comer of his mouth, accompanied by a volume
of smoke from the other.
<* Jack, if you please, Tom — ^but cut it small
— I'm a married man, and every quiet moment
is wallyble to me.**
" As a pig's whisper, Jack,^ answered Tom,
in a voice remarkably subdued. ** You hailed
about a glass ago."*
((Yes — the old bumboat woman outman-
houved — brought us up all standing. What a
broadside ! took us flat aback— *not a gun ready
in our port-holes — not a shot in the locker, —
and then her consort, the dung-craft, raked us
JACK ASHORE. 103
fore and aft — ^fore George ! I gives her credit.
Beat us off. My colours were down— who
knows what became of them? That galls
mer
** Sir John Truepenny—" commenced Jones,
*^ Jack till U>*morroW} and would to God it
was Jack always ! **
^ As to your colours, Jack, they were trium-
phant arter alL Grimm Giles boarded mother
Snowdrop with them flying in his hand. I
can't but say as how they were a little dirty-^
what matters ? we won the day. Grimm car-
ried Mrs. Snowdrop^s craft, and she is now in
limbo.'*
^^ Well, I'*m sorry for that last,^ said Jack.
*' I like the old girl's spirit Did any one see
Susan in the skrimmage?^
« m answer for it, no,'* said Tom. " But
what would Poll say if she heard you talking
about her ?"
"If Poll don't mend her manners — " but
what the consequences were to be if she did
not, were lost in clouds of vapour. After a
long pause Jack resumed : *^ Jones, my hearty,
104 JACK ABHOBE.
Ill tell ye how the land lies. When you get
aboard, up helm and steer straight for the first
leeftenant — ^haul on board your best jaw-tacks,
and give my duty to him. You may say Sir
John Truepenny's duty then, and ax him to
keep my name on the division list, the watch
and quarter bill, and the number on my mess,
for a short spell longer ; for, by all Pharaoh^s
frogs, I am't had a comfortable moment since
they've Sir Johnned me, without as how it be
at this present sitting. But don't log it, that it's
sartain ; but it's a good thing to have a pott
under one's lee, if so be as how one should get
sick of being a barrownite, .and a man of
fortin."
**• There's gumption in that ere notion,*^ said
Brown.
Jones assented with a Solomon shake of the
head, and the baronet refilled his pipe.
The marine triad smoked and drank porter
until five o'clock in the afternoon — a very seda*
tive process to a newly married man, and not
unwise in one married as Jack was.
About this time Lady Truepenny awoke.
JACK ASHORE, 105
and seeing her two bridemaids with her, and a
profusion of finery ready for her selectioDy she
sprang out of bed in a tolerably happy humour,
and, with due assistance, began dressing. But
this favourable appearance lasted only until she
saw another unfavourable appearance that her
looking-glass presented to her. The blackened
eyes of the morning were still more black, and
her face was also scratched and contused.
Lady Truepenny fell into an abominable pas-
sion, that no soothing words could pacify, no at-
tention modify. She did not, however, dress her-
self the less gorgeously, and bidding her visiters
keep their distance, she sailed down stairs mag-
nificently, and was soon in the midst of the
smoke of the three jolly sailors, who happened
then to be as sad as undined sycophants.
Poll opened her battery. No submission
could silence her. This was soon apparent,
and all efibrt to appease her was abandoned.
They had no other hopes for peace but in the
effects of a good dinner, to which they shortly
after sat down. As Poll she had been a tole-
F 5
106 JACK ASHORE.
rably good girl, but as Lady Truepenny she
was detestable, as Lady Truepenny tipsy,
abominable* The company bore it all with
considerable phlegm, and my*ladied her with
great unction.
« My dear Poll—" said Jack.
^* Poll in your teeth, you low, dungbill4>red
varmint I If anybody dare for to go for to
come for to try to be so imperent as to call me
Poll again, PU smash his nasty jaws. If you
don't know what's due to rank and station^ I'll
taitche ye, ye beggars. Jack, ye devil — Sir
John I mean, and be d d to ye — ^good ex*
ample is thrown away on yer, ye hog ! Yer can
neither walk, or talk, like a thrue barrownite
as ye are, and a curse upon ye ! Whereas yer
dignity ? When ye spake you spit out tar, and
when ye move ye roll about like a tater-hooker
in a squall off Einsale Head — ^
** Lady Truepenny !"
^^ Well, Jack, Sir John Barrennit, what
have yer got to say to Lady Truepenny, and
be hung to yer ?^'
JACK A8H0EB. 107
** Mer lady, will your ladyship be pleased
to be so good as to let us know what your lady-
ship^s honour would be after?"
^ Why, Jack I Sir John ! the devil ! since
I'm a thrue female woman barrennit, I means
to uphold the dignity, and any other state and
dignity that I may shortly come to. So I re-
quires, fust, that you get mother Snowdrop
hung, and her tallow-faced darter put in the
pillory ; then, that I have a coach*and-8ix to>
morrow, and four flunkies in gold lace behind,
to go into Portsmouth like a female barrennit ;
and after I am druve about the town and the
fortifications, and over the parade, well set off
for Lunnun, but we'll take out all the money
from the bank first ; — ^that^s all I want to begin
with, Jack^-yer— -yer dcHi't desarve such a
ladyship of spirit. Sir John Barrennit.^
*' Boarding-pikes and grapnels ' Poll^ don't
hit so hard, or I'll wop you. My lady, but
you're muddyrate* You must have — ^
" You — you — I'm not to be called you —
your ladyship, if you please. Sir John/'
^' You be d— — d, and your ladyship too !"
108 JACK ASHOBB.
said Jack, growing seriously irefuL ** A
pretty notion you must have of a barrownight.
Do yer think Fm the hemp'ror of Marroco, or
the great jam of Tartary, who washes their
fistes in melted silver, iced and perfumed, and
wipes them arter in five-pun 'notes ? There^s
plenty of knights, and barrownights, and lords,
and yearls, and dukes too— if not all in his
majesty's fleet, often enough at the searports,
you huzzy I and which of them d*ye ever see
riding about in coaches and six with flunkies in
gold lace ? As far as I can trust my ogles,
they all looks much like other folks, only they
be often a precious sight uglier.*
*^ Ah, yah ! yer low feller 1*^ said Lady
Truepenny, with infinite contempt ** These
ye spake ov is mere say monsters I common as
salt'herrings ! A riglar bom lord barrennit is
worth casks of them. Get to Lunnun, Jack,
and see the stuiF ye raely be ; vally yer dignity
as I does ; let nothing low come out of yer mouth
— may the devil cram it with toadstools if
ye do."
We give this only as a short specimen of
JACr ASHORE 109
Poll's style of speaking — which, when she
was tipsy, had the least taste of Irish about it
in the world — and of her then habit of
thinking. In the mean time there was a rapid
and great change taking place in Jack^s whole
frame of mind. He knew that he had been too
precipitate, but he still hoped to make all right
yet. He did not repent, for a moment, the
having kept his promise with his girl, but he
began to perceive that he must hereafter carry
a tight hand over her. But just then he was
very weary, and he desired nothing better, for
some hours, than perfect quiet. He had deter-
mined, the next morning, to throw oflP his
nautical weeds, dress himself in plain clothes,
and place himself and his lady entirely under
the direction of Sir Edward Fortintower and
his lawyer. Having begun so unsuccessfully,
he thought that he had done more than enough
to work out the ideal of a bold, dare-devil,
harum-scarum Jack tar. He began, also, to
think that he had played the fool very little to
his own satisfaction, or to that of any one else.
Ruminating over these things, he now endea^
voured only to preserve peace.
110 JACK A8HOEE.
But the amiable PoUy'^s nature seemed
changed. She had such inordinate and such
vague ideas of her newly-born coosequenoe,
that that, and her life of almost continual
drinking for the last few days, had not a little
unsettled her reason. She made every one un-
comfortable—so much so, that at last, by a
secret understanding with his friends, Jack de>
termined, merely for the sake of peace, to make
her dead drunk. But she was obstinate even
in this, and would only drink just so much,
and so slowly, as she pleased.
Altogether, it was a most wretched evening,
and the sailors and their girls, notwithstanding
their unlimited privilege of the table, grew so
much annoyed by the arrogance and pride of
her ladyship, that they would have gladly de-
parted ; and it was in pity only to Jack that
the}' still remained.
Things came to a crisis* The various liquors
at last began to take effect, and the gentle
Polly grew outrageous. She rose suddenly
from her place, and before Jack could prepare
himself, she flung herself upon him. and gave
him some tremendous blows about the head
JACK ▲6H0BS. Ill
and face. He then attempted to force her
against the wall, and make her harmless hy
holding her hands. But rage and dmnkenness
bad rendered her too strong. The whole party
were then obliged to assist, and bandaging her
hands and feet, they carried her up like a
mummy to bed, she screaming and cursing all
the while. To the bed they were forced to
strap her, when overtaxed nature at length gave
way. Her oaths and revilings gradually sub-
sided into indistinct murmurs, which were
subdued by sobs, until she cried herself into a
profound and deathlike sleep.
Jack returned to his company, and the two
women shortly after retiring, he and his ship-
mates once more retired to the garden, their
pipes, and their swipes. They smoked and
drank nearly in silence until the day hegan to
break. Jack going up every hour to see how
his bride fared in her apoplectic sleep. His
shipmates, being obliged to be on board
early in the morning, then left, with no
favourable ideas of the happiness of being made
a baronet.
112 JACK ASHORE.
About four oVlock Jack threw himself,
dressed as he was, upon the sofa in his little
drawing-room, and thus passed the wedding
day and night of Jack Ashore.
JACK A8HOEK. 113
CHAPTER VI.
Jack puts new rising over bis mast-head, and hoists new
coloiirs — DonH like it— Meets with strange folks, and hears
some nnpleasant truths of himself— More mysteries — Gets
azresCed for debt, and senred with notice of action, which
action he but little notices — The devil to pay with Poll, and
no pitch hot !—£Fexy thing goes the wrong way, and no
pbjsic.
At ten o'clock Lady Truepennny was still in a
sleep so profound that her affectionate husband,
the exemplary Sir John, first having cast off
the lashings with which he had, with so much
loving tenderness, bound her, thought that he
ought to consult some medical person, as to the
cause of this impossibility of her being able to
awaken. But, considerate man that he was, he
reflected that there was no occasion for anything
114 JACK ASHORE.
like indecorous haste; so he carefully performed
bis ablutions, and taking with him his habits
as a civilian, he repaired to the nearest hidr-
dresser^s. He was recognised immediately, for
his fame outstripped his approach wherever he
appeared. The man was obsequiously active
about him. *^ What would his honour want ?^
" No great shakes, my shaver. Just trans-
mogrify an honest tar into a slap-up barrow-
night. But, before you begin, my hearty, let's
have silence fore and aft.*'
** By all means, my lord. Will your lord-
ship step into my back parlour ? My honoured
lord's plain clothes, I presume^ your lordship.
Permit me, my lord. Hum ! a nobleman
never carries a bundle, my lord.^
•* More fool he r
**' Unquestionably ; but so it is, my lord.'^
In the little back parlour the operation pro-
ceeded rapidly. The barber protested, upon
his reputation, and on the honour of his frater-
nity, that he could not do him justice unless
he permitted him to talk. Leave was graciously
granted, and, at the end of a half hour, the
JACK A8H0RX. 115
knight of the tonsor swore that he had sue*
cceded.
*' Walk to the glass^ your honour. Behold
yourself every inch a baronet !"
Jack did so, and was utterly astonished. He
did not like it. He doubled his fist, and would
have dashed the mirror to pieces. He did not
know himself. He was dressed in the height
of the then fashion. Yellow buckskin panta-
loons, with the waistband up to the shoulders;
a very small embroidered waistcoat, about half
the length of those worn in these days of refine-
ment ; a Mecklin lace cravat ; an enormous frill
to his shirty with a brooch in it nearly tliesise of
a crown piece ; — ^thesegave him that Bwaggemg
air of genteel ruffianism, at that time so much
admired. His coat was made of the best blue
broadcloth, with bright yellow buttons. It was
fantastically cut, with a very small front and
tremendously long tails. He wore Hessian
boots, systematically wrinkled down over
his ankles, and his hat was broad-brimmed,
high-crowned, and conical, though flattened at
the top. His side-locks, that were wont to be
116 JACK ASHORE.
the envy of his shipmates and the pride of the
women, were^ with his thick clubbed pigtail,
remorselessly sacrificed; his beautiful auburn
hair was frizzled up and made snow-white with
powder ; whilst a heavy gold curb-chain, and a
bunch of tremendous seals, depended from his
fob, and gave the finishing touch to his appear-
ance. In the language of the day, ^* he was a
very pretty fellow, ** but no longer bold Jack.
His feet came to the ground as gingerly as those
of a cat skating in walnut-shells; his boots
creaked abominably at every motion, and he
felt a painful sense of sufibcation from the pres-
sure of his expensive cravat.
Jack paced up and down, grumbling and
swearing. His free and d^bonnaire action was
totally gone; he grew hot and feverish, and
the first act of his installation in the garb of a
gentleman was the calling for a quart of small
beer. When he had swigged it off at a draught,
he looked about him disconsolately, made an
abortive effort to shove his two hands into his
jacket-pockets, which were in the other room ;
fumbled, in the absence of his mind, for the
JACK ASHOftX. 117
tobacco-box that he had forsworn, and then,
pitching his hat jauntily on the side of the
head, he proceeded towards his lodgings, for
the purpose of seeing how her ladyship was
doing. He felt himself so compressed and
bound up, that he walked, or rather limped
along, like a veritable petit maitre.
He had not gone far before he met three
queer-looking subjects, the one having the ap-
pearance of a broken-down mechanic, the second
of a drunken, heavy, Dutch skipper, and the
other very like a strolling player, suffering
under the three inflictions of hunger, thirst,
and a scarcity of apparel.
They all took off their hats to the pro-
digiously fine personage before them, and each
made his most respectful reverence after his
peculiar fashion. Here was a fine opportunity
for Jack to come the baronet over them ; so he
threw back his head, swung his massive gold
seals to and fro, and stared at them with sublime
superiority.
'* Please your honour,'^ said he of the scanty
118 JACK A8H0ES.
habiliments, ^' can you tell us where the new
salt baronet has palaced himself?''
^* Ab, hey ! who d'yer mean, my good man ?" j
said Sir John, plajring gracefully with his frill,
and giving it a few encouraging plucks for**
ward.
The person thus addressed looked at his
companions and nodded, which nod said very
plainly, this must be some very great person.
*^ I mean, may it please your worship, a low
sailor fellow, that the big wigs have found out
is a baronet and a man of great fortune — the
more's the pity, says I — 'tis true^ *tis pity — and
pity 'tis, 'tis true — a foolish speech.''
'* Right, a very foolish one ; — ^but what sort
of a chap is this low sailor ?"
** A mean-looking, dranken hound, that has
just married his trollop. He has been making
a precious ass of himself — ' Write him down
an ass»^ as we say in Sbakspeare — everybody is
laughing at him. He has ' no good grace to
grace a gentleman,^ like your worship, but
goes about in jacket and trousers, making a
JACK A8BOBX. 119
very fool of himself; * A fool, a fool — ^I met a
fool r th' forest— a motley fod— a miserable
▼arlet^ This gander and his goose are making
ducks and drakes of their money. A terribly
biazen-faoed wench his wife ! We know that —
don't we, my oock-a-doodles?*^ winking to his
two fijends, who returned his sign with a
knowing leer to the right and left. << Well, this
PoD, that he has now made my lady, has kept
him spoonily drunk for die last week — made
him play the mountebank and jack-pudding
before all Portsmouth — and, just to keep her
in exercise, wops him every half hour of his
life ; and were she to wop the life out of the
poor zany, ' 'twere a consummation devoutly to
be wished.^
'* A sad tale this^ young man," said Jack ;
but do 'spectable people say all this ?^
* Our burghers in our streets^ — why, 'tis
the common voice of rumour ; respectable, said
your worship? — there it is — they did say he
made a tolerable tarry-breeks, though he was
given to lush, and sometimes got his hide
scored down with the cat-— but that money and
120 JACK ASHORE.
rank are thrown away entirely upon such a
sorry nincompoop — ^he is a contemptible ass."
^* I do hefpn to see it," said Jack; *^but
what may your business be with him ? — do him
out of a little of the ready, hey ? — Make him
drunk first ?"
*• Why, we might, but the poor fool is such
an infernal bore — too much honour to sit with
him — a paltry fellow. We could frighten him
out of his cash by only looking ugly at him, if the
poor knave had the spirit to keep any ; but his
brimstone hussy never allows him more than
three-halfpence at a time in his pocket^-our
business is with her I"
"With who P**
« With Poll of Point as was— Lady True-
penny as is — ^at least as long as some of us
like. We are going to make her fork out
handsomely — ' a hundred thousand ducats,
more or less."* '^
" But what'll Jack say — Sir John Truepenny,
I mean T^
** ^ I with his poor presence will dispense ;*
give the poor fool twopence, and tell him to
JACK ASHORE. 121
go and make a beast of himself at the next pot-
house ; and should he not * unto my words
seriously incline,' I shall be seriously inclined
to kick him there."
" You will ? Now that's very boldly said,
and I like you for it; shiver my topsails, but
should he get yardarm and yardarm "
*^ Blitzen ! but dere bish someting wrong.
Who might dis gentlemens be?'' said the
foreign sailor.
Jack shrank back into the shell of the baronet
again quickly ; and adjusting his cravat like a
monkey before a looking-glass, said— << Don^t
wonder, my good sir, that now and then I comes
it man-o-war fashion. I have the honour to be
a land-shark, as the sailors, God bless 'em all,
call me — ^a lawyer, and my practice is among
them — I do 'em all — ^get 'em their wages — ^and
in the marchant sarvice make ^em bring actions
agin their skippers for quilting Vm ; you cir-
cumstand. Have made a pretty fortin, I tell
ye, and only practise now and then for the mere
pleasure of doing a good action --dammee —
VOL. TI. G
132 JACK ASHORE.
ah !" — ^and Jack riddled about and looked
grand.
** Why, youVe the very geDtleman for our
purpose. Honour, honour, you know, among
thieves. I beg their pardon for classing a
lawyer with them ; but, as the play says, * ad-
versity doth make us acquainted with strange
bed-fellows.^ So^ sir, my name is Horatio
Hildebrand — a travelling denomination/'
" A purser's name?" said Jack.
** Not so, sir, for I have no purse, and
naught, if I had, that purse withal to fill. But
you shall help me. I am merely the friend of
these two worthy gentl^sien, acades ambo.
You understand law Latin, cf course?"
•* Of course. Go on — let me bear bow you
circumstand it. Wrong, I've a notion,^' said
Jack.
" Then you will correct me, sir ; but not
now — I always translate best after dinner over
ray wine ; but it means, in a general way, that
we three will go to the devil for one another."
You are quite right — I have no doubt
«
JACK ASHORE. 123
about it Now for your bisnis with Poll —
Lady Truepenny."
** Why, sir, this, d^ye see, is the rights on't.
' The course of true love never yet ran smooth,^
apd a very rough course we've made of it. We
intend to live better for all time to come — hate
work of any sort ; we three — we, the glorious
(icadea amboy intend to be gentlefolks for the
rest ci our lives, and Lady Truepenny is to
furnish us our means. * The world,' no, no,
she^s < mine oyster, which I with' fright ^ will
open.' "
'* A good opening speech, as we say at the
bar," said Jack. '* Heave ftbead — I mean haul
in the slack of your jawing tacks. State your
case to the big wigs."
** Simple— plain as way to parish church.
Allow me to introduce you to one of my ambo$
— Johannes Dondertromp, Maiy Macannister's
first budiand — Mr. Jeremy Dwindlebink, doll-
maker asid carver in wood, Mrs. Dondertromp's
second husband— both alive and kicking—- that
ifl^ if to kick they chose. Now, * the chink^s
G 2
124 JACK A8H0EE.
the thing by which we'll prove the conscience
of the king* — no^ I mean the queen/'
<< God bless me i shiver my timbers ! What
two ? — taken flat aback, by the lord ! Jam me
like Jackson, if a cat*s-paw would*n't blow
away my headsheets. The damnable huzzy I
Two — ^good P' said Jack, in something like a
topsail-breeze passion.
^^ O, I see you are moved, sir,** said Mr.
Hildebrand. *^ Three husbands is too much.
The depravity of the world is great I This
atrocious bigamy shocks you, sir P
^* Bigamy, man alive I Worse, much worse —
two husbands is bigamy, sir^ but three is a
bigger sin, and must be biggeramy,'* answered
Jack ; ^* but, as I take it, a baronet must be
equal to two or three common men, this last
marriage must make it biggerestamy. llie
devil split her into staves for rum casks.'*
^* Perhaps, sir,** said Mr. Dwindlebink, in a
small-beer voice, ^* your worship means poly-
gamy."
" I owe you one,**^ said Jack, squirting his
JACK ASUOBE. 125
saliva from the corner of his mouth in the lean
chaps of Mr. Dwindlebink. '< Polly has
gammoned me by the hooky I and PoUygamy it
is. The deceitful slut I"*
'^ Ah ! your indignation is natural — but we
must be generous. Far be it from us to destroy
the peace of a distinguished family — to plant
thorns upon the nuptial pillow. We have
tender consciences — we are merciful— Lady
Truepenny shall settle on u» two hundred a
year a piece, and graves shall not be more
silent Just a legal instrument, not mentioning
the consideration — spare people's delicate feel-
ings, of course. So« sir, if you'll just step home
and draw up something natty "
** Yes, yes — done in the shifting of a topsail ;
but clink down first— I must touch— queer go-
secret service money, and all that sort of thing.
Ten guineas to begin with !''
** What a land-shark T' said Horatio^ in a
most elegant stage whisper. ** But you must
wait till we get the first instalment So set
too, and begin driving the quill ; well bring
the mopusses in an hour or so. Lady True-
126 JACK AftHOEB.
penny must come down something handsome
for a commence.*"
** All that's Tery good, Horace,** said the
mechanic; '^ but this gentleman, if he is a
lawyer, must be laughing at us. No deed or
instrument you can frighten her into signing
can be of any value. All that we can do is to
draw as much money out of her as possible,
and to stick to her like bricks wherever she
goes. Horace^ you are always rash and im-
prudent; but I am sure this gentleman is a
man of honour, and will not betray us, espe-
cially as we will call at his oiRce after our in*
terview, and give him his share of the swag.
So, sir, for the present, we will wish you good
morning."
•• Avast there ! my friend I you had better
take me with you,*' said Jack ; ^ my company
will prove that you are in earnest, and as I
just know all about the house— it belongs to a
relation of mine — I can take you slap into PoD^^s
bedroom before that ass of a Jack Truepenny
is up to it.'*
" But where is Sir John ?"
JACK A8HOBB. 127
" I hove good retaon to know that he is far
enough off from her room now. So come
aloi^, my hearties — berets Ae latch^ke; — 9lYs
right — clap OQ more canvass, and be d— >*-d
toye.**
A very short walk brought the four to the
house. Jack opened the door, and motioning
them to be cautious, they were all soon in PoIFs
bedroom. She was still sleeping heavily. Jack
concealed himself partly behind the bed«<ur-
tains, and with his back to the light began to
give directions.
** She won't rouse, you see — ^had, last night,
many drops too much. Tweak her by the
nose— do it gently, you hound. There, she
moves — what, off again — why then we must
blow the grampus."
He then discharged the contents of the water-
jug on her face and neck, and she opened her
eyes, and would have screamed, had not the
prompt Horatio clapped his hand over her mouth.
*• Hush, my lady," said he, ** we are your
dear friends, and some of us something more-
There is good Mynheer Dondertromp — as
128 JACK A8HOEK.
Hamlet says, ^ what brings you from Elsinore?*—
and here is the expert doll-maker— all of us
come to share your good fortune, my lady.
This stylish gentleman, with the powdered pate,
is a very learned lawyer — we sha'n't be hard
upon you— remember it's only a hanging matter
— so we will be content with fifty pounds now,
and we will come to an arrangement for future
supplies. We shall all be so comfortable and
happy I**
^^ What on earth shall I do," said the lady,
wringing her hands. ** Where's Jack ?"
" Shall we send for him, my lady ?*' said
Hildebrand.
*^ My gracious God, no. What a wretch I
am !'*
It is enough to say that the girl understood
the full danger of her predicament ; so she pro-
duced what remained of Jack's money, all her
little trinkets and valuables, and the best of
her clothes. Having nothing more to give, the
gentlemen were pleased to say that they were
satisfied for the present, but that they must
see her again in the course of a week.
JACK A8H0BE* 129
Polly Still remained in her bed moaning* and
swaying herself to and fro, in the greatest
mental agony. She scarcely had looked at
her husband, and, had she looked attentively,
in all probability she would not have recognised
him.
Jack had made four little heaps of the money
on the table, and four piles of the clothes on
the floor, in the most conscientious manner.
All the conversation had been carried on in
whispers, and Jack had hissed his words
through his teeth in a very startling manner.
*^ We must make haste and be ofl^,'* said the
actor. ** This has been a good moming^s work
to begin with."
** You give all this as a free gift," madam,
hissed Jack. ^* We are no robbers.''
*< To be sure, to be sure— and thank you ;
but what story shall I tell Jack when he comes ?**
said the weeping Polly.
'* That three dirty villains crept into your
room, and plundered it," said Jack.
« Four," chimed in Horatio Hildebrand.
^* You lie,^ roared out the irritated Sir John,
o5
130 JACK ASHOEE.
sweeping up all the money, and flinging it into
Polly's lap. In the next instant he had a
trusty cudgel in his hand, and actively it played
upon the heads of the intruders.
^^ I' am Jack ashore, you extortionating ras*
cals!"
They retreated with the utmost expedition ;
nor did Jack cease kicking and striking until they
were fairly out of the house. Sorrowfully
and slowly he then returned into his bedroom.
His lady was exactly in the same position in
which he had left her — transfixed with a stupe-
fying misery. Jack was prepared to be angry,
but her wretchedness completely subdued every
feeling but grief. He took a chair near her, and,
after a pause, said, ** Polly, are you sober P"
'^ O yes, my dear, dear Jack — what a wretch
I am ! Do you forgive me?"
^* Ah, Poll ! how much happiness you have
destroyed ! But I\e been a great fool ; I should
have looked upon myself as a child, and allowed
that glorious fellow. Sir Edward Fortintower,
to have taken me in tow. Yesterday I intended
should have been the last day of my folly, and
JACK A8HOBK. 131
to have commenced to^ay a new reckoning. I
should have b^un by wopping you well this
morning; for. Poll, you have behaved shock-
ingly for the last three or four days.**
*^ I have, I have, dear Jack ; do^ only do
wop me now, within an inch of my life. I de-
serve it aU, and more — it will be some relief to
me — indeed it will do me good ! "
'^ But little good, niy dear PoU, I can do
you now, or you should be decidedly welcome
to it. What beautiful plans you have spoiled !
I intended to have taken you quietly into some
longway-off part of the country, where nobody
knew us, and given us both some eddication,
and then we should have worked our traverse
into fine gentlefolks in a proper and shipshape
fashion ; but now. Poll, you can be nothing to
me but my woman. Why did you deceive me
— why did you ?**
^ Och hone I och hone I I'm a poor lost
body. I was very wrong ; but your glory came
so suddenly that I had not time to think — I
have been wild — I have been mad ! Why did
132 JACK ASHORE.
they ever ruin us by giving us this vile fortin P
How happy we were before — how happy !**
" Indeed we were."
** Did I not, Jack, keep all your things nice
and clean ? How snug we were messed round
our gun on the lower-deck ! When the sea was
roaring and the wind howling, and you came
dovm from your night-watch wet and weary,
had I not always a clean and dry change for
you, and a glass of saved grog too P — then we
were happy ! how we used to laugh, and joke,
and sing ! And our shipmates so jolly and so
kind I Och hone ! och hone I "
*^ Dress yourself. Poll, as quick as you can ;
bear a hand, there^s a dear soul. Though I
don't see what good it can do to your d d
husbands, they may send the runners after you ;
bear a hand, my soul — bear a band/'
<^ I will not bear a hand, my good Jack — I
will not. I'll sit liere and talk of the happy
past. Let us talk of our messmates, Jack —
the good, sensible, old Giles Grimm ! with his
large bible on Sunday nights.**
JACK ASHORE. 133
" My father— my more than father ! where
ishe?''
<^ And I so good afloat, and such a drunken
wretch ashore. What has he said — what would
he say? — I shall need him and his bible soon.
Do you remember, dear Jack, how he used to
'spound the text, * Watch and pray' — telling us
as how he thought that sailors were 'sensed
praying so much as others, as they watched
more — being generally put in watch and watch
— at least, that was his notion ; but that when
a sailor did pray, he should pray heartily.
The good GUes!'*
" All this is very well, Poll; but, just now,
neither here nor there. Get up, I tell ye ; and
now I'm rigged in the long togs, you had better
ship my jacket and trousers, and slip out the
back way — do it, Poll, for love of me — that's a
good girL I'll go to Sir Edward and the
lawyer, and see what can be done. Walk to
mother Shepherd's, and shell stow you away—
rU send or come in the course of the day, de-
pend on't. Take all the money— you may want
it. Whilst you dress, I'll go and keep watch
134 JACK A8H0SE.
at the door, and should you hear me whistle, be
off like a flash of lightning, dressed or not.
Grood-bye, Poll, and the Lord keep you.^
The girl, more to oblige Jack than anxious
for her own safety, obeyed ; and then Sir John,
adjusting a little his dress, disordered by the
thrashing he bad lately administered, with a
heavy heart and an ill-assumed cheerfulness of
countenance^ sauntered up and down before his
own door.
He had not made many quarter-deck turas
before a smart, dapper young fellow stepped up
to him, and for the second time that morning
was asked for the whereabouts of himself.
** I dm Sir John Truepenny,'* said our hero,
** and a miserable Sir John am I,^ he continued
in a lower tone.
** Very well. Sir John ; you will be pleased
to remember that I have served you with this
notice personally. Yoii had better communi-
cate with your solicitor forthwith. I have the
honour to be. Sir John, your most obedient
and very humble servant, and to wish you a
very good morning.''
JACK ASaOBB. 135
'' Halloa ! hold on ! What's all this about,
and who the devil are you?**
'* I have the honour to aasist in the ofSoe of
Messrs. Totterdaw and Clubfoot, attomeys-at«
law, and in this case agents to Mr. Scrivener,
solicitor. That is a notice of action for damages,
on account of breach of promise of marriage
with Miss Susan Snowdrop, spinster. Con-
sidering the atrocity of the case, we cannot lay
the damages at less than ten thousand pounds.
I wish you a very good morning.^
When Jack was left alone, he took the docu-
ment, and turned it over, but he could make
nothing at all of it. He shook his head over
it till the powder flew about in all directions.
But he had already begun to grow cautious, so
be folded it up very carefully, and put it in his
pocket, with the intention of laying it before
Sir Edward and his own legal adviser.
Sir John still kept upon his watch of love,
but in a fearful whirlpool of various agitations.
He stepped into the house from time to time,
to hurry Poll in her act of disguising herself;
but she was so much overcome with dismay
136 JACK ASHORE.
and sorrow, that it proceeded but slowly. Sir
John was once more on his short perambula-
tions, when the lawyer's clerk was again seen
advancing towards him, but now accompanied
by two fellows, that even Jack^s inexperienced
eye immediately recognised as tipstaves or
thief-takers. He, fearing the worst for the
wretched girl, began to whistle^ and she, in her
bewilderment, instead of making for the garden
at the back of the house^ put her unfortunate
head out of the window in the front, on the
first floor, much more intent upon her lover
than on her own safety.
'* That is Sir John Truepenny," said the in-
telligent lawyer^s clerk, with a provoking
smile.
Jack^s shoulder was tapped in the usual
style, and the usual long slip of parchment put
into his hand. But nothing now astonished
him. The sheriff ''s oflBcers gloated on him as
if he were their best and their natural prey.
Sir John merely asked an explanation, but he
was a little surprised when told that if he did
not pay Mrs. Snowdrop three hundred and fifty
JACK A8U0RE. 137
odd pounds, he must go to jail or find bail —
in fact, that he was actually a prisoner.
At this intimation. Jack coolly measured them
from top to toe^ cogitating pugnaciously. But
lifting up his eyes, and meeting those of
Polly's streaming with tears, he was determined
to take everything quietly until he had seen
her safely off.
It hardly need be said, that a crowd of
oiBcious persons had now collected, for it
was well known to every soul in Porchester
that Sir John was one of its temporary residents.
Jack looked round in a droll, helpless way, and
asked one of the most respectable bystanders
what he had better do. He was advised to
take the oflBcers into the house, and either send
for his friends, or hire a conveyance immediately
and go to them.
Consequently, our hero went in with the
officers, but he was extremely annoyed when
he found that they would not permit him
out of their sight. To communicate with
Poll was impossible, and she, with the infatua-
tion of the self-doomed, would not remove
138 JACK ASHOHE.
from her fate. Sir John, however, was deter-
mined not to leave the house till he knew
what was to become of her, and the tipstaves
being very instructive as to the mimner in
which they considered they ought to be treated,
refreshments of every description w^re shortly
placed before them.
An hour of feverish anxiety passed away,
and poor Jack, from the pacing to and fro
overhead^ was still sensible that the victim
had not escaped He trembled at every noise,
and shuddered every time tiiat the street
door was opened. At length, much to his
satisfaction, Giles Grimm made his appear-
ance. No sooner had he got him into a
comer, and before be could explain to him the
state of affairs, the door of the room was vio.
lently flung open, and three constables, with the
hated Horatio Hildebrand, rushed into the
room. Jack whistled energetically, but it was
too late. Poll was captured as she was de-
scending the stairs, and the scene of distress
became terribl&
Sir John was now as anxious to go as he
JACK A8H0BB. 139
had been before to remain. There was a
summoiit served on him to appear as a witness,
and the immediate presence of all parties in
Portsmouth became necessary. Two glass
coaches were procured, and^ in a short time,
they were all in the Town-ball before the mayor^
and in her sailor^s attire Polly was placed in
the dock, charged with aggravated bigamy.
Every event of Jack's life for the last few
days was big with interest, and not only three,
but thirty volumes would be requisite to paint all
the incidents that arose from them. The hall
wais crowded. Jack had made himself too
ridiculously notorious not to be the gazing
stock of every one who could command the
opportunity of looking upon him ; and as he
there stood before tbe magistrates, a tipstaff on
each side, a more miserable baronet, by those
even well-steeped in misery, could not be con-
ceived.
The evidence against Mrs. Dondertromp
was short and conclusive* Bigamy was then
a capital offence. She was committed to
the county prison to take her trial for her life
140 JACK A8HORE.
at the next assizes. Mynheer Dondertromp
and Mister Dwindlebink, not being able to pro-
cure any one to be bound for their appearance
as witnesses, were committed to the same prison.
Sir John soon found securities ; and Mr. Sin-
gleheart procured him the necessary bail in
Mrs. Snowdrop's actions. Poll was taken away
in violent hysterics, and Jack now saw himself
nearly an isolated being.
His attorney had been civil and attentive,
but distant, and Jack felt too much shame to
force his company upon him, or to seek that of
*
Sir Edward. When he left the court, he was
obliged to have the protection of constables
against the annoyance of the crowd.
At last Giles Grimm, who had never left his
side, got him into a private house, and when
he found himself alone with his friend, his
contending and miserable feelings fairly over-
came him, and seizing the old man's hands, he
burst into tears.
^* Cheer up, cheer up, messmate P' said the
old quartermaster ; *^ it's black and stormy
now, but it will be fresh breezes and fine to-
JACK ABHORS. 141
monx>w. Let us dine like rational folks, and
have one quiet glass of grog after — you'll do
well then.'*
** Poor Poll I she'll be hanged ; and all be-
cause they made me a banrownight. She might
have spliced with all the larboard watch of the
Glory, and neither of these beggars would have
come forrard--but when they thought they
could squeeze the gold out of her — the varmin I
And I, Giles, must stand up and help to put
the rope round her neck !"
^* She deceived ye, Jack — that's a plaster for
your sore heart*^
*^ She did — but, fur a Portsmouth wench,
she was a good girl. Eat the dinner yourself:
I'll go to bed. The Lord have mercy upon
her !"
142 JACK A8H0BB.
CHAPTER VII.
Jack shows symptoms of returnii^ to bis senses orer s slioul-
der of mutton — Makes large piomises of amendmeiit-*A
summary of proceedings, snd the sum-total tains out to be
totally disagreeable— Lots of good advice, to be taken at n
fair valuation— Too dear, aod not taken at all — An interest-
ing interyiew, followed by an interesting arrangement.
Long, earnest, and repeated were the consulta-
tions held between Sir Edward and Mr. Sin-
gleheart, respecting the course that Sir John
Truepenny had lately run, his present situation,
and his future prospects. That all these folh'es,
and the apparent issue of them, were to the
advantage of Edward, he was fully aware, but
this very consideration only increased his regrets.
JACK ASHORE. 143
The well-meaning and good-tempered lawyer
was of opinion that Sir Edward had already
done sufficient for the new baronet to vindicate
his own honour and probity, and to display the
most friendly feelings. He therefore advised an
instant return to London, so that he might
set his own house in order, and watch his own
individual interests. Mr. Singleheart, in order
the more effectually to induce him to do this,
promised to watch carefully over bis cKent, and,
if possible, rescue him from further disgrace,
and shield him from fresh exposures.
But to all this prudent advice Sir Edward
would not listen for a moment He stated his
intention, to which he declared that he would
firmly adhere, not to abandon his cousin, unless
he should commit some offence more grave
than either imprudence or extravagance. To
act otherwise, he felt would not be redeeming
the solemn promise that he had given to Ann
Truepenny.
Mr. Singleheart, whilst he applauded the
heroism of this sentiment, heavily censured
the self-sacrificing conduct that it produced,
144 JACK ASHORE.
and, as he could not condemn, and would not
oppose, he very wisely resolved, for the present,
to say no more upon the subject.
Sir John had ** turned in'' at his new abode,
and discovered, when he awoke about six o^clock
in the evening, that he had, notwithstanding
the acuteness of his misery, slept some hours,
and that his sensations of hunger and regret
were equally divided, though the lady whom
he had so lately elected as the wife of his
bosom was very shortly going to be hung.
Of what use is it repeating that man is a
mass of contradictions? The trite aphorism
does not say enough. Every feeling, every
impulse, every principle by which he is ac-
tuated, be it good or bad in the general accepta-
tion, is, to the individual whom it impels,
neither wholly good nor wholly bad. How
easily this might be proved ! What good
quality of which man can boast, is not re-
solvable into a mean, or sordid, or vicious one ?
The catalogue of his virtues is very volumi-
nous. Indeed, he has invented a series of very
imposing titles for almost all his motives.
JACK ASHORE. I45
Shall we take any of these, the most vaunted,
aod show the quantity of its alloy ? No. The
task is at once so easy and so invidious. The
reason of the degraded nature of his best quali-
ties is, that man cannot divest himself of self.
All his acts, having reference to his indivi-
duality, taint them so deeply with a base
selfishness, that he is obliged to take refuge in
all manner of false moralities for his justifica-
tion, and thus applauds such sentiments as
** self-love and social are the same/'
Let the severely judging bear this in mind,
and not be too harsh upon the disconsolate
Jack, when, on coming down stairs, he found
consolation in seeing that the faithful Giles
Grimm had kept dinner for him, and that, on
observing the quiet neatness of all around him, he
actually felt a glow of pleasure at the idea that
his own Poll would, at this peaceful meal,
neither annoy him by her vain absurdities, nor
disgust him by her too intemperate habits;
although he very well knew that at that
moment she was subjected to prison discipline,
upon prison fare, and her very life in peril.
VOL. II. II
146 JACK ASUOBX.
A shoulder of mutton baked over a batter*
pudding, peas, and new potatoes, with two
foaming pots of porter, formed the dinner of
the wealthy baronet. Two bottles of port
wine, with some excellent American crackers,
and a couple of red herrings, composed the
dessert, to which Sir John and Giles Grimm did
ample justice. The dress of the baronet was,
at this dinner, rather grotesque. He had
shaken nearly all the powder out of his hair,
and ruptured his coat and pantaloons in various
places. His neckerchief was in all manner of
strange shapes, and the glory of his cambric
frill had departed.
Giles Grimm, having received his orders
that Jack was not yet to be Sir John, they con-
versed together as old messmates do over their
grog. The old sailor was not yet reconciled
to the seeing so thorough a seaman in mufti,
and so he plainly expressed himself.
^ Why, as to that, father, you see one would
be shipshape and Bristol fashion. A tanned
sail mended with old and new canvass, as the
case might be, is all well enough for a Dutch
JACK ASHORE. 147
galliot, but hismajesty^s yacht must be as spruce
as a girl on pay-day. Not, daddy, that I atn
over-coDceited with this rig. But I tried it on,
just to see what way I could make under it.
Not much, by the holy I my shrouds are set
up a precious ught too taut ; and Tve been
snapping my standing rigging in one way or
another, all day long. I feel like a ship in
irons, and can scarcely get my feet to the
ground, so sharp as I'm braced up. But
what o' that ? I have the heart to be dressed
as fine again, if so be it^s my duty. FU not
flinch. Every man to his station^the quarter-
master to the con, and the swabwasher to the
head. If I must be dressed like the lord
mayor in my new station, 1^11 bear it as I
ought to do.^
*• Very well, my bo ; I never doubted your
courage, and you'll go through it like a man.
You have headified me with much gumption—
but, after all, the bible's the place to get at
wisdom. You've only given me another guise
of the prabble of the wedding-garment. You've
headified me, my son !'^
H 2
148 JACK ASHORE.
^* No, noy dad ; I should like to see the
rating of the man that could headify you — see-
ing as how, for head work, you can go a^head
of any fast-sailing clipper as ever hugged the
wind/'
" How vain youTl make me^ surety / Now,
my son, what course do you lie next ?""
^< To Lunnun, I'm speculating ; but it all
depends on the governor. I've been a con-
founded ass, and I don't intend to do anything
now, till I get orders from that trump of a fellow.
Sir Edward Fortintower. There^s what I calls
a true barrownight — not such a beggarly, jury-
rigged, makeshift stick like myself. You see
I've left off grog; but, as I am very allicholy,
do you think it might hurt my title just to
have a pipe ? Do barrownights smoke? There
lies the pint. I . am ready to make great sacri-
fices — ^but a pipe — ^"
** With mild orrownocko, my bo I it is a nice
pint. But I'm not a barrownight, nor likely to
be — so I^U vote for myself."
" You will smoke, daddy ?"
JACK A8H0BB. 149
" I will l^ said the old man, with a firmness
highly commendable.
^^ Then Vm blessed if I don't, for I'm mon-
strous dull. I get along as heavy as a bad
sailing West Ingeeman through a field of sea-
weed. My spirits are tangled with cares, and
there's an under-current setting backwards full
agen my heart, that makes me think that all is
wanity and wexation of spirit — 'cos why ? when
a feller gives himself up to wanity, like the ass
afore you, wexation of spirit is sure to follow in
the wake« I'm just miserable, and so I'll
smoke."
And the honest pair smoked in silence fcr a
long while, till at length Jack, being overcome
by the bitterness of his own thoughts, laid
down his pipe, and looking his old friend full
in his face, made the following lamentation.
*' You've been a father to me, when there
was no one but you to befriend me — and a good
father too ; and child, boy, and man, if I ain't
shown ye the love and duty of a son, it ain't
becos I hadn't the love^ and didn't like the
duty, but becos I was sich a fool I didn't know
150 JACK ASHORE.
how to show one or toother. So, Giles, as my
hearts full, let roe make a clear hold, and don't
come athwart my hause till I have said my
say. When the ship^s guns are foul, we scale
'em — we knock up a little rumpus for the time,
but all's clean and fair arter wards. So I'll just
bang off my foul thoughts, and try, like a man
who is going to swing into heaven from the
yard-arm, to make a clean breast of it.
^* What a man is born for* his good Grod that
gave him life only knows ; but I hopes I ain't
^sumptuous when I says I thinks I was bom
to the honour and glory of being a sailor — that
I was bred up for it, stock and fluke, is sartain
— and no one knows so well as you, who had
the best hand in my iM^eding, that that's true.
A good sailor I was, and am yet, though I
have been fooling about in a 'maphrodite rig,
half seaman half barrownight As a tar I was
a happy dog— had my grievances — what then ?
I should have growed too proud and impudent
without 'em. In this world of tribulation
people are not to be so lucky as to be British
seamen without some troubles ; if it was so.
JACK ASHORE. 151
who^d Stay ashore? I should like to know
that !
** Now, I*ve beeD a barrownight just seven
days this very Wednesday— a barrownight,
father, with a Sir stuck up before my name,
like the union jack on the bowsprit. These
seven days I have been a man of great riches,
though little enough I have seen of it, bating
a hundred pounds that I have borrowed of
somebody — for whether I owe it to a sharking
lawyer, or to the brimstone bumboat woman, or
whether I owe it at all, the devil is better able
to tell than myself; but little good the cash
has done me. Ijet us balance accounts, father
Grimm— let us compare the dead reckoning
with the latitude by observation, find the course
and distance run as a barrownight, and just see
where we are.
*^ Last Wednesday week they told me I was
I, discharged me from the ship's books, made a
tom fool of me going ashore, and I made a
beast of myself before I got there — ^insulted a
lady in my drunkenness, tumbled overboard,
got a wopping from Poll 'cording to my de-
152 JACK ASHOBE.
sarts, became spooney, and, when I stepped
ashore, was nearly ton^ to pieces by those vam-
pires the Jews. I, a bold British tar, and a
barrownight, was forced to sneak to bed in broad
daylight, and was tlien delivered up, like one
bound hand and foot, to be plundered by a de-
signing she-wolf and a vain and conceited girl.
O Poll ! Poll !— but the fault is all mine.
^^ But thafs not nearly the worst of it,
father. I was growing mad. I tremble^ I
shudder, my heart stops beating, when I think
of it. It was but just touch and go, my good
old friend— but just touch and go. The wea-
ther-leach, of my senses was shaking in the
wind—the wind of madness, father — the dark
rocks were close under my lee — the blast of in-
sanity grew fresher and more fresh— I mocked
myself — I talked rubbish — I fancied myself
above and better than all the world, and no
longer a mortal man. But another luff, and I
should have been a wreck — a dismasted hull,
stranded God knows where! and with his
blessed light gone from me for ever. But an
angel seized the helm, and took me safely
JACK ASHORE. 153
through the terrible storm, and gave me a
scurjty that I so little desarved. O Susan
dear, sleeping or waking, at home or abroad,
alone or in company, may you be in alL things
and in all ways blest ! I would share with her
my fortune — ^I would lay down my life to do
her service. How strange it is, father, that I
never fell in love with her. May God Almighty
bless her for ever !"
'* Amen I" said Giles, laying down his pipe
reverently, and bowing his head.
^^ Yes, it is to her tenderness that I owe it
that I was not a well-flogged Sir John. It
would have been better had it been so. I must
have remained quiet till I was cured, and thus
all this folly and this wickedness had been
avoided. I did^love that bonny brave beauty.
Poll — ^perhaps the more for some of her faults ;
but dear Susan ! I think of her only as a petted
daughter— she is so young, and so slight,
and so pale ! did anybody ever think her
pretty ?*
*' Hundreds, Jack, hundreds. They thought
her 'mantic, and on one pint, and that pint only,
H 5
154 JACK A9H0EE.
a little odd. Ah ! my son, the honourable
offers she had from the officers of the Glory.
The second lieutenantf a discreet man, that
knows himself and a sailor's duty, went down
to her on his knees, with tears in his eyes. I
think her the most hinnocentest female girl
that ever was. She often put me in mind of
the history of Susannah 'rnong the elders — only
I took care she should not be insulted. But
she is very young, and in a year's hence she'll
forget you. Jack, so make yourself quite com-
fortable. Her beast of a mother — I ask God
pardon for calling any woman a beast — ^will
turn to the poor babe after all, for such mild-
ness and such sweetness would move the stock
of the anchor. But come what will, she shall
have all the little penny I have saved, when I
lose the number of my mess, and the half of it
before, should she want it Make yourself
easy, Jack, shell forget the baronet in a
month, though she might have remembered the
sprightly forecastleman for a little longer.*'
** But she— I sha'n't forget she in such a
hurry. Til speak to Sir Edward^ and have
JACK ASHOEB. 155
her away from the old wretch her mother.
Shall I go on with my ccmfesrion ? That night
there was a riot» and my bride that was to be
got well beaten, and I cut a roost contemptible
figure, and, being heartily ashamed of her and
of myself, was forced to sneak into hiding until
the thing had blown over, and Polly's figure
got a little more fit to be seen. I then, as you
knows, played the tawdry mountebank, and
disgusted my good friends— got pelted and
covered with filih, and then married — we won^t
say what, father, for I did that on principle, as
I intended to reform her, or beat her into a
mummy. Now here I sit, a pretty sample
of a barrownight. My wife is going to be
hung — I've been nabbed for debt — I am bound
over to appear at ^sizes agin Poll, and thus,
after a way, help to tuck her up. I've got a
haction agin me for breaking a promise of mar-
riage—and not a crumb of comfort have I had
since I left the old hooker until this present
sitting — and now I'm so comfortable I could set
to and pipe my eye for an hour with a great
deal of relish."
156 JACK A8HOBE.
** Your black list is full, cbock-a-block, my
son, with many • griefs ; but man is born to
sorrow as the sparks fly upwards. But listen
to me, my bo, and Til comfort you better than
Job's friends. Take up your pipe again— that's
the advice they should have begun with with
Job— for no doubt pipes he had, as he lived in
the East. We will take the least sorrow first.
You can pay the debt, or you can go to law,
and not pay it — that is as it may be—either
way you'll have to pay money, which can be of
no great consequence to you — so that's settled
comfortably. Having made an ass of yourself
is bad ; but there are so many people, without
your excuses, daily making greater asses of
themselves, that you will soon be forgotten.
Mend the breach of the marriage promise, by
marrjring either Mrs. Snowdrop or her daughter
— the daughter for choice— or stand fire !*
^< But I never made a promise at all to either
of them. I must not — I dare not — marry
Susan, because I am not half good enough for
her, and I really never was in love with her;
JACK ASHOBB. 157
and her mother is too bad for anybody to marry,
and too ugly for anybody to love."
*^ Think agin about Susan/' said Grimm.
'* I have no wish to make a man of your great
advantages and glorious speculations marry
anybody ; it is a ^sponsibility not for the old
quarter-master to take; but just think again
about Susan, for the sake of her poor heart and
your own. Ill take a wliiff or two whilst you
calculate."
^* I have thought, father, and it won't do.
Poll has her grappling-irons too fast about poor
Jack. Giles Grimm^ do you believe in ghosts ?
Well, I do, though I never seed one; and there
is only one I should be afraid of if I did, and
that would be Polly's coming exactly at twelve
o'clock on my wedding-night, and looking all
ghastly and black in the face, with the rope
round her neck. He must be a brave roan
who could stand that — and she'd come, I
know, for she is so very parvarse — ^that is to
say, if I spliced with Susan."
" But why more if you had poor dear
Susan, than any one else, my son ? Not that
158 JACK A8UORE.
I doesnH think your scruples quite nat'ral
like.^
** 'Cos Poll was always jealous of Sue,
though she pretended to despise her, and I
promised her that if I got a warrant, or any-
thing good turned up for me, I'd have only
her.^
" Well, you've kept your promise, and the
keeping of it has done for her. The moment
Jack Ketch cuts her down, you are free— but
it's a matter for yourself only. I would run
the risk of the ghost ; that is to say, if so be
you should fall in love with Sue ; but meddling
with matches, a man is apt to burn his fingers,
there is so much brimstone in them. So Fve
done."
'**' Poor Poll ! I wonder if man can save her !
To hang such a beautiful sample of a woman —
it's barbarous — downright wickedness. I tell
ye what, father, we are the salvages arter all.
When I'm made a barrownight in right earnest,
I'll speak to the king about it. A sailor's lass
ought to be allowed to marry a few husbands,
more or less. Sailor's girls, they go through a
JACK ASHORE. 159
great deal of trouble for the navy. Hang her !
it is shocking !**
*^ It is, indeed,** said Giles, as he knocked the
ashes out of his pipe.
160 JACK ASHORE.
CHAPTER VIII.
A oonvenible chapter, bat it ezpoundi much, and ia ddsemng
of attention— Some bints upon bigamy, and penoillinga by
the way on the ase of the gibbetF--A father's adrice to a
daughter respecting the marriage state— How to take advice
advisedly, that is, if it be palatable.
Giles Grimm, with the prudence of an old man-
of-war's man, had laid an embargo on the house,
and declared it in a state of strict blockade ;
which was a very necessary proceeding, for
every one in the neighbourhood, not troubled
with too much conscience, thought that the
hybrid baronet was very fair prey.
During this day, very many were the unsuc-
cessful knocks at the door ; and whilst Jack was
JACK ASHORE. l6l
making his lamentations, his companion not a
little enjoyed the unsuccessful attempts, that
he could very distinctly hear, were made in
the adjoining passage, for a further admittance.
Thus, when Giles Grimm had idiaken out the
ashes from his last pipe—sad emblem of mor-
tality !— and was about commencing a speech
full of unction and pathos, and had in his
mind already selected the quotation from the
Bible which was to accompany it, a very
emphatic salute on the door diverted his
thoughts.
** Another Jew beggar. Jack. We must cut
and run from this place as soon as we can.
They wonH take, no, it seems. Just reach me
that sapling, and I'll clear the decks.^'
The door opened, and the female domestic,
with a good deal of hesitation, placed two cards
upon the table. Giles read them, and then he
and Sir John immediately rose and ushered into
the room, with all due honour. Sir Edward
Fortintower and Mr. Singleheart.
Jack so much felt the superiority of his
cousin, that he could neither be induced to look
162 JACK ASHORE.
upon nor treat him as his equal. Every sen-
tence was commenced with *^ Your honour,^
and he could not avoid, from time to time,
seizing his fore-lock, and bobbing his head,
when he was suddenly addressed by him.
The same was the case with Giles Grimm ;
but he still being dressed cleanly as a sailor,
this conduct did not appear so unnatural and
ridiculous.
At first, both Sir Edward and the lawyer
were a little reserved ; for, though they much
pitied, they could not help being angry at
Jack's past proceedings. His self-abasement
was extreme, his apologies profuse, and his
promises of amendment numerous and sincere.
He repeated the lamentation with which he
had just favoured Grimm, nearly word for
word — confessed himself a child, and a bad
one, and, with much contrition, asked for
punishment, and humbly solicited advice.
** You have made yourself, much to our
sorrow,** said Sir Edward, ^* a stranger to us*
This conduct has brought with it its own
punishment, and I am glad to see repentance.
JACK ASHORE. l63
I speak plainly to you, cousin, and I tell you
firankly, that I do not think this change in your
position of life will be a change for you of hap-
piness. Never did a person require more self-
watchfulness than yourself. Believe me^ you
are particularly fortunate in having so well
escaped from out of the difficulties in which
your follies had involved you. However, just
see the consequences, even now, of your vaga*
ries."
He then put into his hands the county paper.
Jack was very leniently treated. It gave a
tolerably accurate description of his vagaries,
but good-naturedly imputed them to the effer-
vescence of strong animal spirits, on the change
of his situation, and his desire to take leave of
his old and commence his new life with a man-
of-wai's man's spree. It instanced many more
absurd exhibitions that had taken place among
seamen, on the acquisition of large shares of
prize-money. Pollys part of the article was the
blackest, for the writer of it asked, *^ had this
poor deluded and continually intoxicated young
man no friend to step forward and to prevent
164 JACK ASHORE.
his damning bis prospects in life for ever, by
allying himself with a common ' strumpet P
Where was his lawyer ?-— where this generous
and self-sacrificing Sir Edward Fortintower, of
whom we have heard so much ?^
When he read this part of the paragraph,
the tears actually came into Jack'*s eyes ; and
then he fell into a very healthful train of
thought. He reflected, that what he had him-
self esteemed as a good action — the keeping of
his promise to Poll — was looked upon in a
totally different light by people better in-
structed than himself. Loftier notions b^an
to steal into his bosom, and he felt a sensation
of gratitude at the release of his contract with
Polly. This was not so romantic a state of
mind as the lovers of melo-dramatic sailors
might wish ; but, as it was the true one, how-
ever injurious it may be to our hero, we feel
bound to record it.
^* I am humbled, your honour,'* said Jack,
with his inveterate twitching at his hair ; ** and
what I can say or do, your honour best
knows.''
JACK ASHOBS* l65
*' I'll tell you, my friend, what you are not
to say, and what you are not to do. You are
liot to say, * your honour,' and not to pluck out
all the hair from the front of your bead — par-
ticularly now that you have very properly
taken to powder. Let us now consider your
present situation. We advise you immediately
to settle the debt which Mrs. Snowdrop alleges
that you owe, with all the costs incurred. It
was contracted, though with roguish motives,
for you ; you must, without hesitation^ take up
the bill that Mr. Scrivener holds of this
woman's for the one hundred pounds advanced
to you. As to the action threatened against
you for a breach of promise of marriage, give
it no thought, for we have a surety for believ-
ing that it will turn out merely a threat. Yes,
and for this outrageous Poll too, we may
manage, if you behave discreetly, to avoid the
necessity of your appearing, in person, against
her. The proof of her guilt is quite sufficient
without your evidence.^
** But will they hang her, your honour — Sir
Edward, I mean ? "
166 JACK ASHOBE.
(C
They may, but we do hope not ; no doubt
but that the judges will take into consideratioD
the laxity of morals in a large sea^port town
like Portsmouth. We will make interest for
her — ^but she will be compelled to leave the
country. In that case you may make her exile
not only endurable, but even advantageous and
pleasant to her.'*
And may God desert me if I do not."
Now, Sir John, give Mr. Singleheart a list
of all your debts, for to>night everything must
be paid. Come to my hotel to-morrow morning
in your seaman's dress; be there before seven,
and we will all go to town together — ^you and
Mr. Grimm on the outside of the Portsmouth
coach. We shall thus avoid observation. When
we get to town, you shall travel in a manner
more befitting your rank and your station.^
** God bless your honour — Father Grimm,
why don't you thank his honour ? — now*s the
time for one of your crack-my-jaw speeches,
and you've not a shot in the locker."
*' Sir Edward Fortintower, we are much ob-
ligated to you ; but what rating am I to bear
JACK ASHOBB. 167
on Sir John Truepenny's books ? — ^for I can't
suppose that I am to be hail fellow well met
with him in Lunnon — and yet I should like to
be near the boy a little while, just to look
arter him till he's able to cast off the tow-
rope."
** Well said, honest Grimm. You shall be
bis matlre ihoteV
** Mate dotel — what sort of mate's that, sir —
chief mate or what — and what's the duty ?"
'< The duty will be to do nothing yourself,
and to help Sir John to do the same when he's
so inclined. Only, in your place, I would
not give the same privilege to the rest of the
household."
'* I circumstand precisely. Please, sir, be
so kind as to write down my new rating, that
I may get it by heart."
In fumbling for a piece of paper, Giles, in-
advertently, lugged out of his jacket-pocket a
long tavern bill, and offered the blank side of
it to Sir Edward's penciL Directly he per*
ceived it, he was most anxious to recover the
document. It was the bill for Sir John's
168 JACK ASHORE.
wedding dinner, which he was not fated to eat,
and which not having eaten he had consequently
forgotten.
Every one was much astonished at Giles
wishing, nay, entreating to be at the expense.
This was of course overruled, but it gave
them all a very good opinion of the old sailor's
disinterestedness. The lawyer refunded the
money to him with many expressions of kind-
ness and approbation.
Everything being apparently thus fully
and satisfactorily settled, the gentlemen (we
have not as yet permitted ourselves to class
Jack among them) arose to take their leaves,
all parties being much happier and more pleased
than when they met.
Just as they were about to depart, Sir John
wished to be informed if baronets were per-
mitted to smoke, as he told his cousin that he
was determined to give his new mode of life a
fair trial. He was told that it was a delicate
question, but that it need not now be solved ;
so, till he fully took up his new character, he
might with safety indulge in his taste.
JACK ASHORE. 169
*' Now, Sir John,** said Mr. Singleheart, " we
must get to town as speedily as we can. I will
not now attempt to enter into details with you.
I may just say that your future income will
average about forty thousand a year — ^never
under— often much more ; — that you will have
much to do immediately you arrive in town —
many documents to sign ; and that you will have
to perform some curious services before the king
or his representative, for certain manors that
you hold. In spite of yourself, you must be-
come a busy and a great character. Do not let
this alarm you ; with your means, it is much
easier to become great than busy— that is, busy
to any good purpose. I will now go and settle
Mrs. Snowdrop's demands, and to-morrow we
shall expect you both at our hotel, in health
and spirits, and quite prepared for the journey.
No fuss, you know ; come as Jack, and not a
word yet about Sir John."
*^ Shall obey you, sir. If you please, Tve
a small favour to ask. I don't like to part
with Mrs. Snowdrop in ill blood ; let me go
and pay her this money myself; and I think
VOL. II. I
170 JACK ASHORE.
she ought to have all the foolish expenses she
was put to in bringing me ashore.**
*' The feeling does you honour, Sir John,"
said the lawyer ; ** but you should remember
that, with your own money, you may always
do what you like. Now, do me the favour to
attend/'
He then sat down with paper, pen, and ink,
and writing everything in a round large hand,
almost like print, he inserted the several items
that he was to pay her ; he then sent for the
necessary receipts, which he drew out, leaving
nothing to make them complete but Mrs.
Snowdrop's signature, lie instructed Sir John
to pay the cash over in separate items, to make
the chances of mistake the less, and then gave
him separate checks for each item. Jack, who
wanted only instruction^ proved himself to be
sufficiently acute.
During this time Sir Edward had reseated
himself, and cultivated the acquaintance of
Giles assiduously. He likied him extremely,
and was determined to keep him, as long as
possible, near Sir Johut Everything now being
JACK A8HOHS. 171
arrangedi Sir Edward and the lawyer, with
many hearty shakes of the hand, bade the sea-
men good night, and retired to their hoteL
In the mean time^ Mr. Scrivener had been a
wary and an attentive observer of all Jack's
motions^ and of the motions of every one con-
nected with him. He had not, as yet, ostensibly
appeared as the baronet's enemy. He was
glad of this. So clever and so active a man
did not fail to be in court, though he kept him-
self in the background, during the examination
and the committal for trial of the unfortunate
Polly. Immediately he discovered that Sir
' John^s marriage was null and void, the whole
course of his tactics was suddenly and com-
pletely changed. He went to his inn with a
good appetite and in great glee — a change in
his demeanour highly acceptable to his daughter
Eugenia Elfrida.
This young lady had endured much* Having
placed her fancy fully and strongly upon the
handsome sailor, his absurd marriage, after the
encouraging hopes that her father had held out
to her, had greatly afflicted her. She had, more-
I 2
172 JACK ASHORE*
over, with all her selfish simplicity} a heart. Her
parent never went so deep as that organ in his
calculations. Interest and his advancement in
life — even the coarser impulses of passion — he
could comprehend ; but as to the sentiment of
love, in its character of an abiding aiFection, he
believed it rarely existed, and, least of all, exist-
ed in his daughter.
After he had increased his pleasurable sensa-
tions by a good dinner, and wine enough to
make him remember it with satisfaction, he
began to converse in the pleasantest manner
possible.
** Well, Eugee, my girl, take a glass of
claret — a bumper, — ^good — ^and now give papa
a kiss."
** You are very merry, pa."
*^ I am ; she is sure to be^hung."
'^ Who, papa? O la! and roust I be merry
too ? but I won't, though !"
*' But you will, hussy, when you know who
it is ; your little heart will dance as lightly as
she will when she dances upon nothing."
How shocking! Father, people in our
««
JACK ASHORE. 173
profession should never make game of hanging.
I don't, like to hear anything about it ; but do
tell me if any one is going to be hung."
" Come, guess, Eugee— I'll give you a five-
pound note if you can guess right in three
trials."
" But how can I guess, if it is not anybody
I know ?'
" But it is somebody you know : now run
over in your mind all the people you know that
you think are likely to be hung.^
'^ O my I what a compliment to all our ac-
quaintance !^— hi, hi, hi ! Surely it can't be —
but then he is so very cunning. Well, my first
guess is Mr. Zachariab Snitch I"
** God bless me, girl — what are you saying ?
— You have taken away my breath. My prin-
cipal and confidential clerk ! Come, come, that's
no joke; and the many transactions that he and
I have been mixed up together with I That's
coming too near the mark, however !"
** Is it pa ? — then he is likely to be hung
after all. I deserve a guinea^ at least, for that
guess/'
174 lAcm
Yoo Jlju i il m rod^ bbk; vlieii I and
the narky^ I Brant that jaa came too
near me with jour tfllj guumM — not near the
truth, aimplciDD ; do yoa unde t rti d that ? — TU
not let 70a gnem an j BBOfe» kst 70a should
make more fooiuh mtttake& It is that flauntiii^
tawdrj, impudent, common wendi, Pdl of the
Point, that was married yestetday to the sailor
baronet; and it now turns out that he is not
married at all, because his wife, my lady that
would be, hasy at this present time^ two other
husbands proved to be living — how many
more I can't say.**
*' Will they hang the poor woman for that? —
it*s quite dreadful, father.**
'' Oh, I cry you mercy, sentimental Miss
Eugenia Elfiida Scrivener. Are the solemn
and sacred institutions that have been handed
down to us unimpaired from our glorious
ancestors^ to be violated, to be mocked and set
at scorn with impunity, by a low-bom wretch
like that ? Forbid it decency, forbid it Heaven !
My bosom swells with virtuous indignation at
such turpitude. The laws know no distinction —
JACK ASHORE. 175
they are open to all ; if she was tired of her
first husband, why did she not get a legal
divorce?"
** But she married two more — and perhaps
she could not***
** I do not see the legal impediment. But
such depravity as hers deserves death, and
death she will suffer. Well, your sweetheart,
my chuck, is again a free num.'^
** My sweetheart, pa ! How can you say
so?"
" Didn't he, for love of you, jump into
the sea ? You saw it — ^hundreds saw it. He
did this even when in the trammels of the
woman we are' going to hang. What a glorious
match he will be ! '*
^* Ah, father I some other Poll will step in
and whip him up. You can't hang them all —
one after the other. Besides, you told me only
two days ago^ that he was a low-lived, vulgar
wretch — that such a marriage would make me
wretched, and disgrace your family.^
^* That was all perfectly true yesterday, but
not so to-day. The man is, of himself, a fine
I
176 JACK ASHORE.
ittftTi, and, in good hands, will turn out a
splendid one. It is a most merciful dispensation
of Providence, the hanging of this abandoned
woman. Sir John Truepenny's virtues will
now have full scope to unfold themselves.
Under your care and nurture, and under mine,
Eugenia, his amiable qualities will blossom into
beauty, and j^ltimately bear glorious fruit.
When he has been your husband six months,
he will be a very different sort of person."
" Ah, when !*" said the lady, with a deep
sigh.
" Soon, very soon, girl ! Now the principal
obstacle is removed, I see nothing to hinder us.
When I have set my mind upon an object, it
must present much more difficulty to its at-
tainment than your marriage with Sir John
Truepenny, before I will abandon it. Take
another glass, my child. Keep up your spirits,
and I am much mistaken if by this time to-
morrow be is not sitting very comfortably by
you. You can look very beautiful if you
choose.*'
*' O la ! how beautiful I will look — may I
gaze into his handsome eyes the first time?^
JACK A8H0&E. 177
*' Don^t ask such foolish questions* Look as
much, and say as little^ as jou like. Bol I
must retrace my steps. Ring the bell^ and
order pens, ink, and paper, without removing
the wine-''*
In a very brief space. Miss Scrivener was ae«
lecting in her mind the dress that she would
appear in on the morrow, and her father was
writing two letters, the effects of which, he
doubted not, would forward him considerably
in his long-cherished designs.
i6
178 JACK ASHOkE,
CHAPTER IX-
JoBt like loTt, bat not thtt tender eentiment — Jtck tries bit
bend in eloquence upon bende— >Mekee no band of it^—
More moralitj, and lome priaon diacipHne— Mra. Sooir-
drop much in tbe dark aa night adFa nco e A letter, but
whether it contain love or law, time muat abow— Tbe whole
condaded with a peep into a priaon.
Mrs. Snowdbop^s private residenoe was in a
quiet, decent, by-street of Fortsea, in a mode*
rately-sized house, which contained all the com-
forts that could be desirable for one in her
station, and something beyond it. Everything
about and within the habitation was scrupu-
lously clean, and, thanks to the taste and care
of Susan, the only untidy thing ever discover-
able in the abode of Mrs. Snowdrop was Mrs.
Snowdrop herself. Though the house was ex-
JACK A8HOBX. 179
tremely convenient and roomy, its owner had
long ceased from taking lodgers ; and since the
death of her last pro tempore husband, which
took place about five years previously to the
time of our present narrative, the only inmates
were the bumboat woman, her daughter, and a
strong, cleanly, and active servant-maid.
The evening^gun had been fired from the
guardship of Spithead, the band bad ceased to
echo among the stone traverses of the fortifica-
tions, and twilight had begun to temper the
glare of the summer^s day, when Sir John
Truepenny timorously knocked at the door of
Mrs. Snowdrop's house. His heart was hushed
into respect by the thought of the suffering girl
within; and the extreme tranquillity of the
place so contrasted to the clamour and riot
of the life he had lately led, that, for a mo-
ment, his mind acknowledged no higher ambi-
tion than to be the possessor of such a resi»
dence^ and of the gentle inmate that it con-
tained.
After waiting a considerable time at the
door, it was cautiously opened by the servant-
180 JACK ASHOmS.
girl, and his entrance disputed for some tinne,
for ** Missus had gun into the country, and
though miss was hin, she was hindeposed."
From this answer, it was evident that Betsey
had picked up some of the crumbs of literature
that had fallen from the well-supplied literary
table of her young mistress.
Sir John was mortified, and to his many
questions he got so much of intelligence as to
convince him that Susan was not seriously ill,
for she was at that moment ** reading aucl cry-
ing by turns, and not fit to see nobody.^'
Jack persevered, and he was too captivating
and too handsome to entreat long in vain, al-
though he refused to give the girl either his
name or business, but he gave something quite as
much to the purpose — a crown*pitx^ and a kiss.
The result was, that Sir John suddenly found
himself alone with Susan, in the little drawing-
room. At first, owing to his dress, she did not
recognise him, supposing him to be some one
connected with the affair of her mother's impri-
sonment. She arose with much trepidation, the
book fell upon the sofa, she hastily dried away
JACK ASHORE. 181
her team, and advanced to meet the unknown*
They were face to face before she recognised
him, and then, for one instant, she stood as if
transfixed with some mortal pang, and the next,
uttering a low shriek, she fdl into his arms.
Not long did she indulge in this weakness.
She gently disengaged herself from the sustain-
ing bosom that she loved too well, and sat her-
self on the sofa, for she was still very faint.
Jack stood silently before her, really awed by
ber presence ; and when she requested him to
be seated, instead of placing himself beside her,
be took possession of the edge of a chair in the
very centre of the room, and for the first time
commenced making a serious inspection into
the state of the lining of his hat. Re-assured by
his timidity, Susan addressed him*
'^ Oh, Sir John," she exclaimed, '^ you do
not act kindly in coming thus to see a poor lone
girl."
^* Upon my honour, Susan I may I never see
port again,*" (Jack forgot he was not at sea,)
^' if I did not expect to see your mother here.
I own that, at the door, I heard she was in the
16S JACK ABHORE.
ccmntry ; but I had not the heart to go back.
I oome to make peace with her» and to bid you
good-bye, for I'm going to London early tio>
morrow morning.^
«< So 80on r she said, with a slight start ;
*^ but it is much the best it should be so.
Have you not heard that my mother is in
prison?"
^ In prison, Susan — here's a pretty go ! I
have been so occupied with my own fooFs
scrapes, that, on honour, I only heard that die
was put in the watchhouse. Tell me all about
it/'
In as few words as could convey the infor-
mation, Susan explained to him that she could
not be allowed to be bailed, as two of the per-
sons injured in the riot she bad originated were
not yet pronounced out of danger ; though, from
inquiries she had made, she learned that those
two persons were walking about very comfort-
ably. She further told him, that her mother
had placed her affairs unreservedly in the
hands of Mr. Scrivener, and that she, Susan,
suspected that he had not done his best to pro-
JACK ABHOBE. 183
cure her liberation, and she was sure that he
was advising her mother to act Tery badly
indeed. On this subject she would not further
explain herself.
^ But I must leave you now, Sir John, and
go to my mother before she is locked up for
the night She is in a dreadful way, and re-
quires all my pity. She is treated well enough
considering her situation, but the frame of
ber mind is horrible. Oh, I dread to meet
herP
" Then don't go, Susan. You are too deli-
cate-built a craft to stand such a breeze. Let
me face her for you. 1*11 take her broadsides
as quietly as the rock of Gibberhalter, and
when all her shot's expended, I dare say I
shall be able to victual her with something
comfortable. Stay at home, and 111 be back
in an hour.^
^* But, John, I am her daughter ; and though
I feel the tie neither a tender nor a strict one
when she is in prosperity, yet in prison, friend-
less and half mad, my heart yearns towards the
being who bore me, and I love her — ^in spite of
all, I love her. O my mother ! "
184 JACK ASHORE.
" Well, well, don't cry, there's a good girl-
swab your delicate eyes dry, dear ; and go, if it
is your duty. But just give me the names of
any one who is likely to become her bail.'*
** O there are plenty. Sir John ; here are
the addresses of four persons — ^and I could give
you as many more. Indeed, people say that
she is very hardly used, and that you, begging
your pardon, Sir John, are at the bottom of it
all, by the means of your great friends, and
your lawyers. I don't believe a word of it."
** God bless you for that, my dear girl !
Now go to your mother. I'd walk with you,
and be glad and proud too — ^but, after all that is
past, your carracter, you know, Sue^ might miss |
stays."
** Gtx)d Sir John ; but little character has I
my mother's mode of life left me. — Lord bless
me, my short and young life has been one of
continued storm and misery, ever since I left
school. But my innocence must sustain me,
John,. and there is one who loves and cherishes |
i
innocence, and that love is beyond all price."
^* It is, Susan, and stick to it like pitch.
JACK ASHO&K. 185
Tell your mother FU see her to-night if I can,
and that 111 try to square yards with her, and
part friends, for her dear daughter's sake.^
<^ Do you know, John, all that she has done,
all that she wishes to do, to you ?"
^^ Don't I ? and so, you see, so much the
more I'm behoven to do her all the good I can
—the devil may never turn her heart, but you
may, Susan*-I wish you were my daughter,
instead of hers."
** It is a kindly wish, John, but not mine.
You can be nothing to me now — not even my
friend. I have been very foolish, and, what is
still worse, I cannot feel sorry for my folly. I
have not been so good as I ought to have been,
but oh, how much better than my mother would
have made me!"
" I tell ye what it is, Sue, so yotfU attend to
a plain sailor'^s plain speech. I take it cursedly
amiss that you say we are not any more to be
friends ; but that's some of your rumstick stuff
— for let all go to blue blazes, if I know whe-
ther I am standing upon my head or my elbow.
I'll be more than a father to ye. Let that pass
186 JACK ASHORB.
at this present Now, mark ye me, if any one
says you are not good, and not vartuoas, I'll
punch the liar's head while I can stand — even if
I were twenty times a barrownight Now, Sue,
trip off with your pretty little pit-a-pat feet^
and if you could get a little colour in your
cream-white face, why. Jack's heart would be
lighten for it, that's all. I won't go with you,
you knows why — and that's why, t(X>, I won't
kiss you ; but shaking hands, you know, Sue,
ain't stoppered at all. Bless my eyes, and so
you call this tiny little piece of wax-work a
hand — I could stow away a dozen of 'em in my
flipper — ^and how soft ! Well, well, if I ever felt
anything like it, I^m jammed — but it^s won-
drous pretty sartainly — take it away, you witch,
for it has sent a twitching right up my arm ;
not only to my shoulder, but across my breast
too. Now go, and please God I'll be with you
and your beetle-browed mammy before another
hour."
Susan departed, leaving Sir John in a brown
study upon the nature of hands, and not at all
aware of their intimate connexion with hearts.
JACK ASHOBB. 187
'* It is surely a channing piece of Grod's handi-*
work, that liand ; and I never noticed it before.
My fist and my fives make a wonderful spread,
and the ends of my fingers are as stumpy and as
hard as pieces of old junk — ^really I can't say
that they otv handsome^ and I think 111 be
obligated to run a few knots under sail, before
I shall be able to find a pair of kids to wedge
'em into. Susan^s hand has made me ashamed
of my paws, now, for ever and a day. I 'spose
hers are just such hands as angels ship-—
flippers only made to smooth down the feathers
of their wings of glory, and the sunshine of
their bright hair. But Poll, poor Poll I she's
got a hand worth three of it — that is for dze^
and washing a shirt, and giving a fellow a clout
on the head— and that last a married man^s as
well without. I say it who knows it* But
Sue^s tiny little hand is just fit to take a cobweb
of a handkerchief and wipe a man's forehead
when he's a weary, or to pat him on the cheek
when he is happy. I should like to have its
velvetty softness placed over my heart just for
a minute, that she may feel how it would beat
188 JACK ASHORE.
under it. But she k far enough off now, and I
'spose I may make sail on my own course,
without the tattling poison-dropping tongues
saying that I consorted with her in the even-
mg.
Jack, having finished this soliloquy, which
he really spoke aloud as he paced up and down
the room, went about bis business.
Let us retrograde a couple of hours, and
visit Mrs. Snowdrop in her confinement. Hav-
ing put on the semblance of a better temper,
she was removed to a more commodious apart-
ment, but it still bore all the dreary aspect of
a prison. It was badly ventilated, and that first
of blessings, light, was almost made hateful to
her, by having to struggle through the iron
bars of a single window. The floor was paved
with stone, and the little furniture that the
room contained was of the most sordid descrip-
tion. These, of themselves, were but petty
annoyances, to which the bumboat woman would
have scarcely given a thought, bad they not
all been associated with the idea of restraint.
To hardships she had been accustomed from
J
JACK A8H0KE. 189
her infancy, and perhaps few persons less re-
garded physical suiFering. But the deprivation
of liberty was wormwood and gall to her. She
would sit from daylight to dark, in the most
horrible weather, in her open boat, in the open
sea, without repining. She had more space for
motion now, but it was in a prison, and she was
in agony. And she was so weary too. Even
imprecations aiForded her no relief.
The gloom in her apartment was as profound
again as that of an ordinary room, as the twi-
light began to deepen, and she became impa-
tient. She flung her heavy frame, in despair,
upon her iron bedstead ; it gave her no relief,
and, with a curse, she began shouting for one of
the turnkeys. He made his appearance imme*
diately, and knowing well her capabilities of
rewarding him, he was always surlily civil to
her.
'' Is that wretch of a daughter of mine come
yet?^
*♦ No, Mrs. Snowdrop She won't be here
this half hour."
** This half hour, you — you — you key-turn-
190 JACK ASHOftB.
ing scoundrel ! Why do you say it will be a
half hour first ? may the grass be on your grave
soon I"
^* Fair words, fair words, if you please^ good
Mrs. Snowdrop. You told the young lady
herself, though she begged with tears in her
eyes to stay with you, not to come till eight
o'clock. Shall I tell you the very words that
you used?"
" Do if you dare^"
'* They was cruel ones ; they was indeed.
missus.''
^' Cruel I I want to know who in this grind-
ing world is kind. I don't know of one in the
whole world but myself. Have I not been
kind to Susan, very ? Given her the best of
heddications, and never intended that she should
have put her hand to work whilst she lived.
And she hasn't, except when she liked it herself.
And when she ran after her fancy man, I didn't
much mind that ; but her romantic stuff made
me sick. The man was well enough — and when
he turned out to be a barrennit, how I daved
for both of ^em ! hand and heart, labour, care
JACK ASHOEE. 191
and money, did I spare them? Ungrateful
beasts that they are! then he, poor fool, to
take up with a gaudy painted trollop — a trol-
lop— faugh ! and she to quietly cross her arms
and say, ' All is for the best, mother." I'll
best them yet.*^
*^ I could tell you summut, Mrs. Snowdrop,
that would make your heart dance with joy,
but I won't unless you promise to behave kind*
ly like to miss when she comes*^
** Out upon you, you reptile I who gave you
leave to make terms with your betters? Don't
you make me pay, like Jews as you are, fur my
pitiful accommodation, and I am to be insulted
into the bargain ? Out of my sight ! Thank
God, I have still one friend left"
The vituperated turnkey withdrew, saying,
^^ A wilful woman — she is distraught, and that's
the best that can be said of her.^
^* Yes," continued Mrs. Snowdrop, when she
again found herself alone, *' I have one friend
left ; a real one — a clever, sensible, smooth-
speaking man is Mr. Scrivener ; but not for his
cleverness, not for his good sense, not for his
192 JACK ASHORE.
kind words — and God knows,just now, I want
kind words enough — is be my friend ; but be-
cause he will assist me to be revenged upon
that sot who despises me and my dauj^hter.
O that that daughter had but a little of my
spirit ! Good Mr. Scrivener, who feels for me,
says that she must swear that he made her some
promise of marriage, or that he ruined her ; and
the hard-hearted wretch, who does not feel for
me, will neither swear to one or the other. 1^11
make her, by G , for one or the other he
must have done. Why did she leave her
happy, plentiful home, and her fond, indulgent
mother, for all the hardships of a lower-deck,
if he did not promise her something ? I can't
comprehend it. What can her books have put
into her head? The girl, though pale and
slight, is likely enough. I never did reproach
her, I never should have reproached her for
being no better than she should be with the
men — with her prospects, she has a right to do
as she likes, just as her mother did before her ;
but then, arter all, to stick herself up for inno-
cence and vartue — it is too bad — and not to
JACK A8H0EE. 108
join ipe iD helping to have my spite out against
that Jack barrennit, is worsen ten thousand
times worse. There's no duty in the world
now. Eyerything is going to sixes and sevens.
I dare say, if she has a child by the caseal,
which is likely enough, she won't swear it to
him, not she, because she has not lost her inno-
cence. Faugh I what right has she to pretend
to more virtue than her mother ? — not that any
one can say that I am not an honest woman.
I was always true to my husband for the time
being ; and to be constant to one man at a time
is as much as can be expected of any female —
at least in a sea-port town.'^
It was thus that this unhappy woman, in
her obscured views of morality, continued in-
creasing her misery, and '^ nursing her anger
to keep it warm*^ When she found the excess
of her rage really inconvenient to her, she
turned for consolation to her newly»acquired
friend, Mr. Scrivener. ^* Yes," she exclaimed,
*^ he will help me to my revenge-^he will not
see a lone woman like me wronged and insulted
VOL. II. x
194 JACK ASHORE.
— but he might have got me bailed by this
time. Noi no I I wrong him, and that I
will never do. It is a burning shame to lock
me up here, because fools broke each other's
skulls. I only flung rotten eggs, mud, dead
cats, and other harmless things. Talk, after
that, of the liberty of the subject ! if one
mayn't fling dead flesh at a piece of vamped up,
painted carrion like my Lady Truepenny — a pre-
cious lady I — when she found her own pillory to
stand in gratis, and for nothing ! whereas the
rights of a free-bom Englishwoman? Mr,
Scrivener, my friend, where are you? you
should have been here, according to promise,
an hour ago ; but I dare say that you are doing
your best for me I "
The door opened, and the turnkey, with a
grin on his face, and a letter in his hand, en-
tered. At the same time, a figure stepped past
him, and went and sate itself down on the
bed in the darkest comer of the room. Mrs.
Snowdrop rushed forward too eagerly to ob-
serve this, and seizing the letter, actually
JACK ASBORK. 195
pushed the man out of the room, and placing
herself directly under the fast-waning light,
commenced to read it
Her broad and swarthy features, through
the darkness of which the red of health glowed
on her cheek«>bone% her heavy' and yet active
frame, her wide chest, and her ill-supported
and redundant bust, showed her to be at once
strong and slatternly. Her eyes and hair were
of gipsy blackness, and her dirty cap was
huddled up on one side of her head. Notwith-
standing all this, there was something like regu-
larity in her features, and great shrewdness in
their combined expression. Her countenance
formed a dark but significant volume, in which
all the passions were traced in the strongest
colours. The book was now fully displayed,
and, believing herself alone, there was not a
page of it that she attempted to conceal. Her
transition from curiosity, through various con«
tending emotions, until she reached frantic rage,
was gradual, awful, and almost grand. The
tragic look of the curse-denouncing priestess
x2
196 JACK A8HOBK.
was there, though the language of the tragic
Muse was wanting.
With a look of pleasure she unfolded the
paper, and began to devour its contents, with
that leisurely gratification with which an epi-
cure would sit down to a favourite dish. She
read aloud, and made her reflections as she
read.
(c c My dear madam !' (Sweet, good gentle-
man ! it is your true gentleman only that
knows how to pay a respectable person, a
householder and a fundholder, prop^ respect.)
< Before this I should have done myself the
honour of kissing your hands,* — (kiss my hands T
said she, surveying the monstrosities, which
were only a little less, and a great deal blacker,
than Jack^s, our resplendent hero's ; ** kiss my
hands! well, that's civil; but one can't very
well keep them so nice here as could be wished.
I am sure he might kiss my lips, and welcome.
Hoity, toity ! we are not so old yet — not five-
and-thirty, as I'm honest-*and he's a widower,
and can't be fifty yet. Perhaps he's heard of
JACK ASHORE. 197
my three per cents, and bank stock. I should
like to see myself sprucely dressed— and so
would he, I reckon* If I were laced up like
Susan, or 'dizened out like that infamous Poll,
I don*t think I should know myself — &ct — but
sitting down in a boat amoiig legs of mutton,
soft tack, cabbages, turnips, and potatoes, for
twelve hours on a stretch, is not good for the
lower part of the figure, and makes me look
rather squabby. But I can leave off bumming
whenever I Hke, and perhaps if I was, I might
grow back to be little again. Let us see what
the dear man says besides; it is a real treat to
read his billy-do« — such a fine plain hand in
the bargain !)-«* of kissing your hands ; but a
deep consideration of your interest has alone
stayed my too willing steps.* (Kind soulJ but
he need not have stood upon so much ceremony.)
* This consideration has led me seriously to re-
flect upon our mutual position as legal adviser
and client.' (Client— what'* a client ? Think
I know, but not sure — wish Susan was here —
client must mean something very good, or he
would not call me one.) ' But that tie, my
198 JACK ASHORE.
dear madam, it is my painful duty to acquaint
youy we must sever for ever.* (Well, never
mind, there^s no occasion for any severity about
it — ^let that tie go— ^there's many a better-
daughter will talk by the hour about ties — ties
of love, ties of friendship^ ties of matrimony —
that's the right tie after all ; and your jolly tar
has his ties too — ^his long ties, short ties, and
topsail ties ; but all these ties may be broken ;
but there's only one tie that I know of that will
last man or woman their lives, and that^s Jack
Ketch's — ^that I should think of dear Mr.
Scrivener and that particular tie at the same
time is so odd — ^but light hearts have light
fancies. Let us read on.) * My honour, my
conscience, and the purity of my. intentions,^ —
(purity of intentions is good, I like that,) — * have
caused me to take a calm review of our compli-
cated positions, firstly, as regarded between
you and me; secondly, as between my old and
respected friend, Sir John Truepenny, and my-
self; thirdly, as between that excellent baronet
and yourself; and, fourthly, as between the com-
plicated relations of all of us, taken singly and
collectively.'"
JACK ASHORE. 199
When Mrs. Snowdrop had read this para-
graph quite through twice, her features be-
came rigid, and her brow darkened. ** < £x-
ceUent, old, respected friend!' Can he mean
that filthy Jack ? Why, he does, indeed ! Am
I really alive — ^if living, am I not mad? It
was but this morning that no abuse was bad
enough for him. As to his firstlys, and se-
condlys, and other gammim, it's all Hebrew
Greek to me. On my conscience I bdieve he's
a rogue at bottom. I am a miserable deserted
woman I What next does the cut-purse say ?
* If you will weigh all these considerations so
maturely as I have done, you will rejoice to
find that I have come to the conclusion that it
would be highly indecorous, on my part, to act
hostilely against a man who must look upon
me as his best and first friend, seeing that it
was I who originated and brought to a happy
maturity that train of evidence which has ter-
minated in the establishment of the undoubted
heir in his rightful rank and fortune.' Here^s
treachery ! the scarlet cheat knew all this, this
morning. Let's see some more. ' Therefore,
200 JACK ASHORE.
I must most respectfully decline any further
communication with you, lest it should give
oflTence to Sir John.* (Is it come to this — ^to
this ?) ^ I would not go so far as to advise you
to. drop proceedings against that distinguished
individual — in conscience, I cannot persuade
any person from going to law — but it must be
distinctly understood, that, in deference to Sir
John, I can have nothing further to do in this
business. I have no doubt but that the attorneys
ill this plac^ Messrs. Totterclaw and Clubfoot,
will do your causes ample justice. And now,
madam, as we are to conclude all transactions
with each other, it will be incumbent on you to
settle the little account between us, of nineteen
pounds and a fraction due to me, as per bill
enclosed, for various legal services ; therefore,
I will trouble you to hand me forthwith twenty
pounds, which you perceive will be the exact
sum, charging thirteen shillings and fourpenoe
for this letter.
' I am, madam,
* Your obedient servant,
* Simon Scbivekeb.*
lACX ASHORE. 201
** * P.S. In the matter of procuring your re-
lease by bail, it would be highly improper for
me to take any steps as your further imprison-
ment may be agreeable to Sir John Truepenny,
as it will secure him from any future outrage
on his person, and from the annoyance of low
abuse.' *
The latter part of this letter Mrs. Snowdrop
read with eager rapidity, and then the burst of
her rage was terrible. She loved her money
dearly; and, in this document, she contem-
plated the loss of some hundreds of pounds^ and
the completest triumph for the man she was so
unjust as to consider her enemy. The rage of a
peer of the realm is held to be interesting, at
least in a book, — that of a prince of the blood
is to be watched with eagerness, and its out-
breaks to be listened to attentively — but when
majesty begins to be in a passion, how awful is
the contemplation of its eccentricities I But, in
the eye of the truly philosophical observer,
human souls §nd human rage are equal;
at all events, the short madness of anger
x5
202 JACK ASHORE.
is wonderfully the same, in its outward aspect,
in all persons; and for choice, for power
of expression, and for natural energy, the
fury of the bumboat woman is preferable to the
more regulated rage of the prime minister.
We well know which is the lowest and the
most vulgar* The bumboat woman may rise
into nature, and approach sublimity, in the ex-
pression of her irritated soul ; but the great
ones of the earth, when they lose themselves
in anger and cease to surround themselves by the
affectations of their position, are despicably little
and wretchedly vulgar.
Mrs. Snowdrop tore her hair: king David
could do no more. She cursed her enemy
deeply, bitterly, and in language stringent and
metaphorical : the curses of some of the sove-
reigns of Judah may have been more rancorous,
but they were not more grand. This same curs-
ing is certainly a great relief to misery, and, as
such, is not to be despised. It is, moreover, of the
highest antiquity, having been with man from the
beginning. It is wicked, for it came in the world
with sin ; and, generally, it is very offensive to be
JACK A8H0EE. 203
witnessed. We shall, therefore, pass in silence
the wilder paroxysms of this woman's rage,
and view her in the moments when the sense of
her desolation came black and horrible upon
her.
Immediately the stoniest heart looks about
for pity, it begins to soften. It would then
fain spare a little, in order that it might
itself be spared. It is then not absolutely
selfish, for it has made the unwilling dis-
covery that something beyond self is neces-
sary to it
'* I am tortured beyond my power to bear —
those that oppress me are strong— they have
the iron hand and the willing heart — they are
above, and how much stronger than me, mise-
rable poor woman that I am I I have none to
protect me— none to side with me — lone, lone,
lonely — very lonely indeed I am. This villan-
ous lawyer should be murdered — cut off from
the pleasant earth totally — ^he makes misery, and
then mocks at it. Can the devil do worse ?
I have been fed, mind and body, upon coarse
food, yet can I feel injury, and insult goes to
204 JACK ASUOBK.
mj bones* I am a poor lone wretch — I know
it — I know it. I have no grand name for
dirty doings — I know not how to varnish a
filthy act by a sounding title. A gentleman
cuts his enemy's throat, or drills him to death
by a pistol- ball — I pelt mine with a few eggs;
bis murder is an honourable satisfaction, and
my act a low outrage. But I am forsaken
utterly, utterly— no friends — no upholders. I
once had a daughter, but she has gone over to the
enemy. I would kneel down and curse her too^
only I remember when she was a wee little
puny thing, and I cannot.^
** I bless you for that word, my dear, dear
mother !'^ said Susan, coming forward in the
gloom, and flinging her arms about Mrs.
Snowdrop's neck.
" Uncoil yourself from me^ viper T'
** No viper, dear mother, but a loving, de-
voted daughter. Your heart is still with me —
you cannot deny it.^'
"And dutiful?"
" O yes ! and dutifuL Teach me your
dangerous business, mother — ^no stormy weather
JACK ASHORE. 205
shall ever make me shrink from the sea — ^no
cold deter me from going out — no rude inso-
lence shall make me neglect your interests.
Stay at home — enjoy your ease — any sacrifice
you can ask of me, any task, any labour you
can impose upon me — all, ally I will eagerly,
joyfully do ; but I will not swear that John
Truepenny ever promised me marriage, or that
he or any other man ever took an improper
liberty with me."
'* These are fine words, miss ! As to the
labour that you would so kindly take off my
hands, I can't but say but that I thank you
for the feeling — that's fact ; but if it is not
always a pleasure to me^ it is a want that I
should not be happy without, I'm so used to it.
But all this gammon about you and Jack — who
ever heard of a giri going off to a young
fellow on board a man-of-war, merely to pre-
sarve her vartue, and talk long yams out of
books about it? Nonsense, nonsense I if you
have made a slip or two, I am, Sue, just the
mother that'll stand by you — for I know what
it is to be a woman, and, as a fond woman, what
206 JACK ASHORE.
it is to be tried. Do you the same by me
as I do by you — ^be honest and candid —
assist me to work out my spite against this
upstart tarpaulin that has treated us both so
scurvily.**
" Do you know, dear mother, that there is
much} very much, of love and kindness in all
that you have said, though you wish to believe
that I am infamous. God knows, that after
the imprudent, the very wicked step that I
have taken, I haVe no right to stand upon cha-
racter — it is gone* It is a dreadful punishment,
but I have fully deserved it« My only conso-
lation lies in this, that I am not only innocent
in act, but also in intention. I had read of
princesses following their lovers disguised as
pages— my judgment then had not been sharp-
ened by misery — and, if there is any truth in
woman, believe me, mother, that I went on
board to John, not to be his paramour, but his
servant and his slave. To me, when he saved
my life, he appeared so grand, so beautiful !
As I floated out to sea among the bubbling
waves, how bravely he flung them aside — ^he
JACK ASHORE. 207
rode, them as a master spirit would a wild
horse — ^he shook the spray from his curling
locks so majestically I and shall I ever forget
his look of hope and cheerfulness, as he placed
his left hand under me^ and said, * Don't be
frightened, pretty maid ! Nothing but a duck-
ing ; only keep your head up and look at me.
That's a brave girl I You are the only good-
looking mermaid I ever dapt my ogles on.'
Mean words these, mother, I know, to treasure
up and to doat upon. Shall I ever forget
them ? never — never — ^never I They come into
my mind whenever I am alone, and I fancy I
hear them amidst the laugh of festivity. How
often are my dreams made blessed by them !
In health they are my joy — in sickness they
shall be my solace ; and if they are but upon
my lips on my deathbed, I shall die happy ^
these mean, vulgar words !*'
^* Daughter, you are far gone. You love this
Jack barrownight !**
'^ I do, indeed, mother, fondly— with a zeal,
with an adoration that belongs as much to re-
ligion as to love. He^s a noble creature, mo-
208 JACK A8HOBE.
ther-*a very noble spirit ; and, as yet, he does
not know it. Shall I plot to injure him ? 1
have but little to offer you, mother — my life is
but little worth, and my soul I cannot give
you — ^but I would freely part with the one, and
almost peril the other, to turn your heart to-
wards him— to cause you to look upon him
with kindness.*
*^ He wishes to defraud m*e of much money.
Let him do me justice^ and I will forgive
him!'*
^* Defraud you, mother ! how little do you
know him ! He has seen me — this glorious
being has seen me— he came to our house in
order to make friends with you, for he knew
not of your imprisonment O ! how kindly he
spoke of you P
" Did he ? Perhaps— I say only perhaps — I
have thought too hardly of him, for that she
dragon, that painted Poll, is most to blame.
How did the poor noodle get away so soon
from his modest and blushing bride ?''
<< Oh, mother, that woman is no bride of
his. Poor creature ! she is now confined in
JACK ASHORB. 209
the county jail to take her trial for her life, for
baying married two husbands before she went
to the altar with John ; and it is certain that a
disgraceful death will be her doom !**
Until this moment the daughter had sat near
the mother, her caresses half repulsed and half
permitted. But when the mother heard this
announcement, she started from her chair, and,
with a ferocious triumph in her eye, she shook
Susan savagely, placing her heavy and strong
hands upon her shoulders, and, with a strange
noise between shouting and laughter, she ex.
claimed,
*' Daughter, is this true ? Only say it
again, and say that it is true, and I will forgive
you, I will bless you P
** Ah, my mother/' said the poor girl, her
tears flowing freely, ^* it is only too true."^
*^ God, I thank thee ! now am I revenged I
But I will taste a sweeter morsel yet. If it
cost me a hundred guineas, I will get close to
her at her last moment, and mock her in her
agony/'
210 JACK A8HOBE.
'* Mother, this is dreadful — it is impious !
She is in the hands of her country, and shortly
will be before the tribunal of her Grod. She will
die the death of a felon by the law of her fdlow-
creatures, and yet her God may pardon her !
Crush not the bruised reed — place not your
foot upon the head bowed down to the dust.
Henceforward, to you she can only be an ob-
ject of pity — let her be one of forgiveness too.
Mother, dear mother, it would let sweet light
into your heart, and clear the black cloud from
your brain, if you would kneel and pray for
hen Try it— even now — even now."
*' You gentle tyrant I would you make a
fool of your old mother 7* said Mrs. Snowdrop,
much softened. *' I have not prayed for many
years — the words would clog my throat, and
suffocate me. When I begin, the struggle will
be great ; I must wrestle with my sins alone.
But, daughter, for your sake I will do it."
^* May God bless you for this, as I do !
But say to me, this moment, that you forgive
her; and, in the solemn language of the judg^
---
JACK A8H0EE. 211
ment-seat, wish her a good deliverance before
man now, and before God hereafter."
** I forgive this person from the bottom of
my heart, and may she find a good deliverance
before man now, and before God hereafter."
*' O my mother P' said Susan, flinging her-
self again into her arms, and kissing her with
raptures of afiection, *^ I am so happy now.
For years I have not been half so happy. But
I feel strangely tired. Let me go to sleep
where I am— only for a little while— as I used
to do when I was a baby. Won't you, mother ?
it is so delicious!''
Mrs. Snowdrop replied only by a fond em*
brace, and gathering the slight form of her
daughter upon her ample person, and placing
her pale face upon her bosom, she remained im-
movably still. Yet the tears burst from her
eyesy at first with difficulty; but love had
opened her heart, and then she wept freely,
and in a short time wept herself into peace and
happiness, even whilst, once more cradled in her
arms, her daughter slept
But there had been two witnesses of all this
212 JACK ABHOBE.
scene — Sir Edward and Sir John. Admitted
by the turnkey, they had not been ob-
served in the twilight, and not knowing at what
moment to interrupt the mother and daughter,
they now thought it wrong to interrupt them
at all; so, in perfect silence, they retired as
they entered. They were both much afliected
— ^indeed. Jack could not at all understand his
feelings. When they were seated in the keeper's
room, Sir Edward asked his cousin how old was
Susan.
*' Not yet seventeen, and yet the trim-built
little craft has sense enough for seventy.**
^* She has virtue and goodness enough to
redeem half the wickedness of this not over
righteous sea-port. Tell me^ dear cousin, the
whole of her history ?^
So Jack, in his simple^ straightforward man-
ner, told it ; and, just as it was finished, Mrs.
Snowdrop sent for lights. They, upon hearing
this, concluding that mother and daughter must
be sufficiently composed to bear intrusion, en-
tered with the candles.
JACK ASHOBX. S13
CHAPTER X.
B«gtiif with mBDj aiiiiabQiti«»— Th«ra u much eettliDg of
•eoTM, ind ererything looks ploMant— A ride on a eoicb —
Listenert seldom hear much good of themselves, though
the hearing often does them good — Jack dines on the road,
and afterwards throws one of the compaoj out of the
window.
^' Well, mother/' said Jack, after much other
conversation, '* so we've squared yards, and can
moor alongside of each other, and lend a friendly
hand if need be/'
" John Truepenny,** said the bumboat
woman, *< we have both made two flaming
noodles of ourselves. Everything has gone on
lately in a manner I canH understand — least
said soonest mended — a cow makes a bad hand
214 JACK ASHORE.
at a hornpipe on account of her cloven feet, * and
I can't very well walk up hill/ said the grind-
stone—from all which I gathers that I have
put my finger in a pie where it had no business;
and so I must pay for the baking of it, to the
tune of some hundreds."
** Not a farthing, mother — not a farthing.
We^U trim ships, and shift ballast in the ram-
ming home of wad and shot.*"
*• You are very kind to say so. Sir John.
You are looking merry and well, the which I
am glad to see, but the law and the lawyers
are all on your side, and I expectates that I
shall be left here to rot in gaol, until some
fool's pate or another is healed, that I had no
more hand in breaking than you.*'
^' No, your anchor is short stay a peak, so
you may let fall and sheer home as soon as you
like ; but this gentleman, who allows me to hail
him as cousin, is Sir Edward Fortin tower, and
he having the gift of the gab, will read the
articles of war to you."*^
The bumboat woman dropped him a very
low curtsey, and folding her arms before her.
JACK ASHOBE* 216
waited to hear him speak, with an air of deep
respect
^ Mrs. Snowdrop,** said Sir Edward, '< I
make your acquaintance in a happy moment.
You are free to walk out of this prison imme-
diately. The order for your discharge is
lodged with the governor. I have become re-
sponsible to the magistrates, that to-morrow
you will procure the necessary bail to answer
any -charge that may be preferred against you
at the next sessions, for assault or breach of
the peace. There is no likelihood of any being
made against you ; we have compromised several
little affairs arising out of your obstructing my
cousin's procession. It appears that you have
been kept here mainly by your own lawyer, to
answer some ends of his own."
<' The villain ! read that, Sir Edward,** said
Mrs. Snowdrop, giving him Mr. Scrivener^s
letter.
*' Well, Mrs. Snowdrop, all I can say is,
that, at the price of twenty pounds, you will
purchase your dissolution of all connexion with
216 JACK A8H0RX.
him, most cheaply, if Sir John Truepenny suffers
you to purchase it at alL**
*^ Not a shot on my account shall mother
fork out ; upon that I am up and down posi-
tive, as stiff as the dophin-striker."
*< My cousin takes the just and honourable
view of it, MrSi Snowdrop. Here is pen and
ink — ^now we must go to business."
So^ to the utter astonishment of the bumboat
woman, and the unbounded admiration of her
daughter, checks on the Portsmouth bank were
given for every expense to which Mrs. Snow-
drop had made herself liable during Jack'b
week of madness* Altogether, this amounted
to nearly five hundred pounds, law expenses in-
cluded. Besides the enormous and fraudulent
bill of the landlord of the Blue Posts, and the
acceptance for one hundred and thirty pounds
held by Mr. Scrivener, Jack paid her most
liberally for the outlay to which she had been
put in fetching him on shore ; and added also
the twenty pounds, Mr. Scrivener''s last demand.
Joy and gratitude made Mrs. Snowdrop speech-
JACK ASHORE. 217
less ; but the strong and deep emotion did her
infinite good, and had a lasting and most be-
neficial eflect upon her.
When all this was settled, and the receipt
given, Jack, forgetting the powder in his hair,
which had been hastily re-befloured by a barber
before he had called on Sir Edward, began
scratching his head violently, so that the white
drift fell in showers about him. This tritura-
tion of the scalp was Jack's invariable outward
demonstration of perplexity, not in thought,
for no one thought more vigorously or more
justly, but in the want of words to shape that
thought properly.
" Well," said he, « I can't launch it— that's
flat ; and yet I must try. Missu? Snowdrop,
do ye know as how I likes ye for one thing—
mainly I do— it's your spirit."
•• Thank ye^ Sir John, I've had a little too
much of it in my time-a good fire's very
well, but when you come to bum the house
down ■ ■"
"Very true, mother; but still spirit's the
thing I likes; that was a precious good skrim-
VOL. II.
218 JACK A8U0BB.
mage you knocked up at the corner of High
Street— it was well and seamanly done — ^upon
my soul I enjoyed it. Taking us on the broad-
side, raking us fore and aft a head, whilst we
hadn't a ha'porth of stamway, and no room
to tack — was a glorious manoeuvre. I enjoyed
it, raother.*"
^* More than I can say— furs are not pleasant
in warm weather — the cat would not be skinned
in the dog-days, for fear of taking cold. Puss
was wiser than I. I got the worst of it, Sir
John, every way."
" Well, so you did. I tell ye, I enjoyed it.
How much, mother, might it have cost ye ? — a
pretty penny. Come, be good*natured — I want
to laugh at you — and the more it cost you, the
better the joke for me. Do, Susan, there^s a
dear, make your mother tell us all it cost— *it is
the only satisfaction I require."
** Why,^ said the bumboat woman, ** I was
just stark mad. But you won^t laugh so much
as you think ; for the rapscallions were ready
enough for mischief without being bribed to it.
There was the hire of the two carts, one
JACK ASHORE. 819
load of soil, serenty dozens of rotten eggs,
twelve men one day^s labour each--and, really,
that was all ; the volunteers brought their own
ammunition, and they were to be paid by the
plunder. Really, six pounds would more than
cover all expenses. **
** It must have cost you more^ mother-
must indeed. Such a glory of a row — such a
super-rarity of a spree, cost only six pounds ?
Impossible !'*
" True, indeed, Sir John ; for I don't reckon
the damage done to the enemy. There I had
you. Sir John."
" Well said, mother— very well, indeed.
Now, I enjoyed that skrimmage amazingly,
and let me see the person that says I won'^t pay
for it — I should take it as an affront It is a
pleasure I think dirt cheap at the price.
There — now we are all square.**
<^ Pleasure of being pelted, going to church
to be married, with rotten eggs ! Well, there's
no accounting for taste, Sir John. The dirtier
the hole, the more comfortable the toad f
When you next marry, if youll double the
L 2
it
220 JACK ASHOBX.
paj) I'll double the bobbery, and give you an
odd dozen of eggs into the bargain/'
** No, no, mother, well sheer ofF," said Jack,
laughing. ** Out of your last batch of eggs
we hatched nothing but mischief. However,
when next I am going to church, I'll send and
tell you.'*
A bargain I your hand upon it !'^
A bargain ! my hand upon it I" said Jack,
shaking the lady's hand.
Such a manual meeting, considering the am-
plitude of the meeters, was seldom to be met
with*
Through all this interview, Mrs. Snowdrop
acted with much sense. Ardently longing to
know in what light Jack regarded her daughter,
she still refrained from making any allusion to
the position in which they stood, the one to the
other.
Now that she might immediately have en-
joyed her liberty, she seemed to be in no haste
to avail herself of that blessing. The conver-
sation then became general, in which Miss
Snowdrop, by the delicate encouragement of
JACK ASHORE. 221
Sir Edward, was induced to bear a part This
gave the good baronet an opportunity of intro-
ducing a subject that he had previously dis-
cussed with Jack ; and, without much diffi-
culty, the mother was persuaded to concur in
the views of the two baronets. To Susan it
was a blessed anticipation. The plan was,
that, for two or three years, she should be placed
as a private pupil, or, in the language of those
days, a parlour boarder, in some first-rate esta-
blishment for the education of young ladies,
and for which Sir John Truepenny was to be
at the sole expense ; Mrs. Snowdrop guarantee-
ing, on her part, immediately to execute such a
deed, that she could not be able afterwards, in
a fit of ill-humour, intemperance, or under the
influence of some unprincipled adventurer, to
alienate from her daughter the bulk of her very
considerable property.
Mrs. Snowdrop had sense enough to dis-
cover, that if anything could make her the
mother* in-law of a baronet, it would be this
arrangement. She therefore joyfully assented
to it when it was fully explained to her, though^
t22*2 JACK ASHORE.
at first} she had made some little difficulty at
being so long deprived of the society of a
daughter, about whom, until that moment, she
had appeared to care so little.
It was finally arranged, that that day week
Mrs. and Miss Snowdrop should be at Miss
Anne Truepenny's, in order to carry this judi*
Clous plan into execution ; Mrs. Snowdrop
undertaking to sign the necessary papers in
London, and then proposing to return to the
old profitable, but disgusting, business, — for
now» having something definite, and even mag-
nificent, to look forward to^ she was determined,
by all possible means, to increase her wealth — a
resolution fraught with woe to the jolly tars.
Susan was all gratitude; but, as the drama
of her and Jack's adventures proceeded, she
gradually became enlightened as to the pros-
pects and the positions of both, and to hope
the less, in just the same proportion that her
mother hoped the more. She imagined Jack
to possess, intrinsically, great talents and splen-
did abilities— -that he would soon be aware of
his immense advantages, and grow commen«
JACK A8H0BB. 223
surately ambitious* She was fully aware that
he had never felt any passion for her ; and she
was more humble in her estimate of her pe]>
sonal attractions than the fact warranted : in-
deed, if to be unlike Poll in her brazen and
bold beauty was to be plain, very plain indeed
was Susan Snowdrop.
At an early hour on the following morning
Jack was again comfortable: he was seated,
dressed as a sailor, outside the Portsmouth
coach, with Giles Grimm on one side of him, a
soldier^s wife on the other, and nothing worse
before him than his brilliant prospects, and his
long clay pipe. Human happiness could not
have been more complete. The untried but
glorious future was leading him forward ; he
had high health, a warm heart, and objects
near him on whoYn to expend that generous
warmth. He was conscious of a superiority
that yet he could not fully comprehend. If, in
these moments of his exhilaration, he forgot his
Poll, and only thought of Sue as a nice, in-
teresting little girl, can we blame him ?
Sir Edward and Mr, Singleheart travelled
224 JACK A8H0BE.
as inside passengers. Nothing particular oc-
curred until the coach stopped, that the pas^
sengers might dine. People actually dined on
the road, going between Portsmouth and
London, in those uncouth times. In order to
avoid publicity, the two seamen were booked
by the name of Brown, and passed as father
and son, and the baronet and the lawyer were
called two Smiths.
On the outside of the coach, Jack had
heard many things not extremely to his ad-
vantage, and he could very well collect from
the general report, that he had no better
character than that of a drunken swab, who
would squander away his wealth in the most
discreditable manner, and finish his career
cither in a prison or a workhouse. At all
this, Jack was too happy to feel oiFended, and
contented himself with resolving to give the lie
to this prophecy, not by words, but by his con-
duct : an excellent resolution, but much more
easily made than acted up to.
Jack and Giles, at the invitation of Sir Ed-
ward, sate themselves down to dine with the
inside passengers. Hence arose a mighty
JACK A8HORE. 225
squabble. A coxcombical^ finical, over-dressed
man, and a fussy dowager-looking sort of
woman, were horror-struck at this profanation.
The landlord was sent for and well scolded.
The two Smiths were told to their faces, that
they were low fellows for permitting two com-
mon sailors to sit at the table with them, and
the old lady peremptorily ordered the said
Smiths to rise and kick the said sailors out of
the apartment
The Messieurs Smiths, however, took no
notice of this premonition, but commenced
eating and drinking as unconcernedly as if there
were no angry fat old woman, or vapouring
conceited middle-aged man, in existence. Now,
the latter, unfortunately for him, construing
their silence into awe, and their contempt into
cowardice, calling up a look meant to be terri-
ble, he asked the masticating party if they
knew who he was, and be damned to them.
At this civil interrogatory each of the party
looked up at the inquirer, from his plate, as
much as to say, ** Do you ?" and then continued
very composedly their agreeable procesF.
I
I
I
226 JACK ASHORE.
" By jingo, if I did not scorn to dirty my
hands with such low fellows, I'd pull your
noses all round. Here, waiter I have you
another apartment for this lady and me to dine
in r
** Nothing but the tap-room and the kitchen.
Sir."
'* Well, lay a cloth for us in this room — ^and,
d'ye hear, bring me half-a-pint of port — and,
d^ye hear, waiter ? bring all the dishes here,
before you take them to the other table— I was
never so insulted before, in all my days. Was
you, marm ?'*
I purtest it's abominable— low creatures !
I can't abide a sailor man anywhere but on the
stage at Sadler's Wells — they be sailors there !
not such vulgar things as these here. Don't
you, sir, find an intolerable close smell of pitch
and baccky ?"
•• Those filthy blue jackets, marm."
* This told so well that the lady felt tempted
to go a little further, and declared she was
quite overcome with another strong scent, as if
bad soap were worked up into a lather.
JACK ASHORE. 227
** Quite right, marm — I know a hairdresser
anywhere by his traiL Two barbers, depend
upon it— the old 'un the master — the young 'un
the apprentice. How they can a£Pord to travel
inside, and pay for a dinner with gentlefolks, is
a mystery."
" It M a mystery, sir — without they are
spunging upon the sailors, — just paid off— or
got some prize-money, perhaps. Ask the sea
brutes.''
*^I say, you sailor men — ^have you been just
paid off?"
** Yes,** said Jack, " and you're just going to
be.**
<* Insolent fellow T' said the lady.
**0h, poor devils, when they get a little
money, while it lasts they always make beasts
of themselves, and insult their betters. The
couple of barbers are the worst — pitiful ras-
cals!"
During the whole time of dinner the stranger
continued in this strain. He opened his eyes
a little when he heard Sir Edward recommend
Jack always to drink claret, and endeavour to
228 JACK ASHOBE.
acquire a taste for it — and he opened them still
wider when he found them all drink it at four-
teen shillings a bottle.
*^ The poor seamen^s money, marm.^
It was the last remark that he was permitted
to make upon this interesting subject. The
coachman, all civility and obsequiousness, came
to announce the coach ready. He had recog-
nised our hero and his friends, and had made
all the people at the inn acquainted who were
the illustrious party they were entertaining.
** Coachman/' said Jack, '^ give this half-
crown to the ostler, and tell him to strew a
few layers of dung under the window.**
^^ Yes, your honour," said the lord of the
whip, vanishing obediently.
"Your honour!'* — said the stranger — "the
scavenger after that."
Jack now rose, and being, as we before
stated, a very powerful man, he seized the
stranger, by what Jack called " the scruff of
the neck," with his right hand, and the " tie of
his breechings"^ with the left, and coolly lifted
him off his feet. The small man kicked a
JACK ASHORE. 229
good deal, and gasped a little — but words he
could utter none.
** lAarm/* said Jack, with a peculiarly sweet
voice, ^* I'll trouble you to open the window,
for I am going to throw your friend out of it.
DonH be alarmed, marm — this is only the
ground floor, and there's a bed made for him
to fall upon— you really had better open the
window, marm— for if you don't, I shall send
him smash through it— and that may cut his
delicate face. Very well, marm, I and this
gentleman be very much obliged to you. Now,
sir, you have had your half-hour's fun at our
expense, let me have my half-minute's diversion
at yours, you foul-tongued blackguard — don't
for the future abuse a sailor—- don't again,
you puppy, mistake silence for the white
feather — remember, for all time to come, that
it's rather dangerous to speak ill of a sailor,
and that it is downright madness to insult his
friend — d^ye hear all that ? — answer me, you
capering anatomy. 1^11 shake you till you do.**
And Jack shook the suspended little man till
his limbs seemed to be flying from his body.
230 JACK ASHORE.
I hear, sir/' said he, panting for breath.
Your honour, if you please. Did you not
just now hear the worthy coachman call me
your honour, you ill-mannered cub ?**
'* I hear you, your, your hon — ^non — ner !"
** Very well ; now, as the parson says, ashes
to ashes, and dung to dung."
And the little insulter flew through the
opened casement,, amidst the roars of laughter
of all the passengers, and every one connected
with the inn.
JACK ASHOSE. 231
CHAPTER XI.
Jack in London^-Ezcellent adTice— Lord Chesterfield made
easy— Tfaifl chapter should be studied bjr mral and nsTal
gentlemen^ and all upon whom the mat of rusticity adheres
—The end of the lesson is a fiddle, a hompipe, and a jolli-
fication.
The party repaired to a quiet hotel in the
Adelphi, where they were likely to excite no
observation^ and that evening Jack was obUged
to undergo the infliction of some two houra^ very
excellent advice. Jack promised all things,
and even went so far as to say, that to oblige
his cousin he would drink a dozen of claret
daily, but he petitioned fervently for permission
to drink it after the manner of grog> qualifying
its acidity with one third its quantity of rum.
S32 JACK ASHORE^
Not granted. ^ Hard drinking. Sir John, is
the besetting sin of the age. It is the standing
reproach of our country ; — a vice, my dear
relation, that you are but too much inclined to
fall into. Fly from it, as you would from a
pestilence," said Sir Edward, with all the
gravity of a master.
Sir John was a little awed and a good deal
puzzled by this sitting, standing, falling, flying
caution ; and, to prove how much he respected
it, swallowed his next glass of claret without
making his usual grimace of contempt. Sir
Edward continued his oration, Mr. Singleheart
every now and then tapping the table with his
glass, to awaken the attention of Sir John,
when he fancied that it might be flagging.
" I should be very sorry. Sir John, to part
you from your truly fatherly friend, GUes
Grimm ; but as no inducement can be ofi^ered him
to make him assume the usual garb of a civilian,
we must find some occupation for him which
he can perform in a sailor's dress, and which
will not necessarily place him about your
person. We cannot introduce him into the
JACK ASHORE. 233
drawing-room, or walk with him on the pro-
menade; nor can he perform the office of major
domo, either in town or country, with credit to
you or satisfaction to himself, unless he totally
cast o£P the sailor, both in dress and manner.
Now, cousin, as yet, I've not disposed of any of
my superfluities — those superfluities that are
not deemed superfluous to a person moving in
our respective ranks, but which to me, in the
present state of my fortune, are very super-
fluous indeed. There is my cutter-rigged
yacht, lying off Greenwich. She is a smart-
vessel, and one. Sir John, which your know-
ledge and seamanship will not despise. I will
dispose of her to you at a fair valuation, and
you can instal Grimm as its commander — ^and,
for a careful old sailor, a very pretty command
it is."
** Done l** said Jack, his eyes sparkling with
delight.
*^ We will consider that as settled. To-
morrow I would advise you to remain quiet,
and by the next day you will have the proper
adjuncts of a gentleman.^
234 JACK ASUOAE.
c<
Junks for a gentleman — we never cut up
junk for such nonsense !'*
^' By adjuncts, Sir John, I mean dress, equi-
page, and everything that others can do for
him — the indispensables are what only he can do
for himself. Now, dear cousin, these latter are
the most difficult to acquire — we must see
what study and instruction can do for you."
^* I am very willing to larn, cousin."
** But, in the first place, we must begin by
unlearning. You must avoid all sea phrases —
you must accost people, not hail them — ^youmust
take leave of them, and not part company— -you
must sit down on a chair, or a sofa, and not
moor ship— and when you hand a lady to a
seat, you must not tell her to bring herself to
an anchor."
^ Very good. Sir Edward ; I'll chalk all that
down on my log^board.^
*^ You will do no such thing, cousin of mine,
you will merely record it in your memory."
** Ah, ah, cousin of mine ! IVe caught you
tripping ; use no sea phrases, says you, and here
you are talking of re-cordtftgr things up in the
JACK ASHORE. 235
memory ; and wrong arter all, for we don't say
cord, but lash ; when we would secure a thing,
we say lash it — we lash up a hammock, lash the
colours to the mast, and so on. I will lash it up
in my memory, Sir Edward, but I*m a lubber
if I either cord or record it.**
** Remember it, at all events ; and on shore,
when we wish to go from one place to another
on foot, we walk — we do not roll ; and we stop,
but do not bring up all standing."
^* I circumstands."
^^ You understand. I do not say there may
not be such a word as circumstand. Of the
fifty-nine words acknowledged by our great
lexicographer, that have the prefix of circum,
circumstand does not stand among them.**
** A curious circumstance,*' said Jack, not
exactly knowing what to say, but knowing he
ought to say something. *^ May I ask, what a
legs-he-cogs-rafier may beP — ^legs must have
something to do with standing, in course — ^but
I am puzzled about the dittos at the end of his
rating.**
'< We will leave the dittos alone, and the
lexicographer too^ for the present. When I
I
233 JACK ashore;
am not understood, say so. Do not touch your
hat when you are spoken to. Lift it reverently
from your head to a lady, bow to a gentleman,
and don't be too eager to shake hands with
anybody, at least for some time. Pardon me,
cousin, but to be gripped by your fist is like
being caught in a mild man-trap. Wear gloves
continually night and day, and make as little
use of your hands as possible ; rowing I abso-
lutely forbid ; and walking with a heavy stick
must not be thought of. Your teeth are band*
some, very— but still a little stained with that
odious tobacco. You must go to a dentist, and
scrupulously follow his advice. You may
smile as much as you will— your smile is really
cheering ; but your laugh, it is so boisterous —
it is like the rattling of artillery passing over a
paved road. Cousin, you will rarely see me
laugh."
•* The more's the pity."
** Oh ! we donH laugh in our walk of life^
you may indulge in a chuckle — ^yes, a chuckle, —
but heaven defend me from your cachinnation."
** I wish it was more catching, that's 'all ;
and that you would be the first to catch it.
JACK ASHORE. 237
Why, I've myself seen you laugh like a monk ey
that has just stolen a cocoa*nut«^
<* That has been among ourselves. I aoi
speaking of your conduct in mixed society.
And, cousin, don't make sorry comparisons, and
break awkward jests, on any but myself, and
those who regard you as I do."
^^ No offence. Sir Edward — ^none I hope; but
a merrier little fellow than a monkey, with a
nut in his fist, in the middle of a hogany tree,
I never clapped eyes on — ^no offence, cousin."
** None in the least, my dear cousin ; only,
till you have seen a little more of the world, I
would advise you not to jest at all. One of
the best jests I ever heard of, cost the poor
maker of it his life."
'* I should like to hear that jest, cousin.
Though I should know it, I'll take care not to
teU it."
** It is an old story. When Tiberius suc-
ceeded Augustus as emperor of the Romans,
the former withheld a very valuable legacy left
to the public by the latter. The unfortunate
joker of whom I was speaking contrived to let
^3S JACK ASHORK.
Tiberius see Imn whiqier into the ear of a dead
man. The emperor very natarslly asked the
meaning of sndi a proceeding. The presump-
tuous wit replied, < That he wished the de-
parted soul to signify to Augustus that the
commons of Rome were yet unpaid.' For this
bitter jest, the emperor caused him to be slain
on the spot, and^thus carry the news himself.**
•* May all such emperors be rammed, jam-
med, and damned, into a two-and-thirty inch
mortar, and blown as far into the sky as they
ever will get;— that's Jack's vardict But go
on, cousin, I undercurostnimbles your drifL**
** Undercumstrumble ! Spirit of Doctor
Johnson, bow down and listen ! I think, Mr.
Singleheart, that for the present we had better
leave his cacology alone.*'
** I thinks you had better, seeing as how — "
" Not a word about it. Sir John. To im-
prove your deportment and make you present-
able, we must procure you immediately a danc-
ing and a fencing master, and a professor of the
broadsword would not be amiss. A teacher of
English, and a writing master must be engaged
JACK ASHOBE. 239
iminediately, A French master is indispen-
sable, and a smattering of Italian requisite. A
classical master must not be neglected ; Latin
for a few hours daily, for the present, will be
sufficient ; and in about a year hence he may
commence the Greek language."
At this enumeration, Sir John looked dread-
fully chopfallen ; and at the prospect of the
Greek he commenced a most dolorous whistle.
" Don't be discouraged, my excellent young
friend. You are yet in the prime of youth,
and great things are expected from you. The
pages of history are teeming with examples of
what may be achieved by application at a late
period in life. It is well authenticated that
Galgerandus, a rich man of Mantua, being
troubled with the spleen^ now called ennui,
from having nothing to do, at the age of fifty
began to learn the Greek, Hebrew, and Syriac
languages, and became so eminently proficient
in all of them, that he left behind him forty
and three volumes written in these tongues, on
astrology, alchemy, and permitted and forbid-
den magic ; all of which, to the great misfortune
of posterity, are now lost.'*
240 JACK ASHOHE.
Jack looked up with a very puzzled counte»
nance, and innocently asked if all this happened
a long while aga
" In the thirteenth century .''
*^ That accounts for it — poor gentleman, I
pities him — for I dare say baccky and grog
wam't invented then."
<* I think, Sir Edward," said the lawyer,
** that you are teaching my client too fast"
** Very probably, but we must do our best
You know well what vast motives sway me, to
make him in manner worthy of what I believe
to be his intrinsic goodness. However, we will
bring the present lesson to a closer by merely
asking him if he has any taste for music."
<< AinH I ? Many will be the dull hour
on board the Glory, now Jack^s a barrow-
nighf'
<* Baronet — dear Sir John, how often I am
obliged to correct you in that single word ?''
" Well, I'll mend apace, — ^music — fetch me a
fiddle, and send up old Grimm, and if he can
stand it without dancing, Fm spooney .**
The fiddle was soon procured, and Jack
JACK A8R0BB« 241
Struck up a tune with so much truth and spirit,
that the two gentlemen were amazed, and whis-
pered to each other in raptures^ ** This is true
genius."
The effect of the old tune w pon old Grimm
was curious; he hitched up his trousers,
then thrust forth one leg and shook it to the
tune, then the other, then both together; at
last he jumped up, and fairly danced all through
the sailor's hornpipe, long cut, and long and
short shuffle complete, quite to his own satis-
faction, and to the ineffable delight of all the
party.
The rest of th3 evening was passed more as
if they had been in the lower deck of a man of
war than in a quiet hotel near the Strand* In
spite of the gentility and gravity of S^ Edward
and the lawyer. Jack made them as^ merry as
himself, and they confessed that he was, in his
own rough way, a master spiriL
VOI« II, M
242 JACK ASROKK.
CHAPTER XII.
Verj sliort, bat decidedly to the purpoie— JtckTitits bis town
rendence incog. — Gets on botrd bit yaobt, ud be and old
Griinm, like two lebooWboys, play tbe tmuit.
The following morning discovered Jack yawn-
ing dreadfuUy over masses of papers and parch-
ments, and Sir Edward and the lawyer vainly
endeavouring to fix his attention. At length.
Sir John fairly gave in, and begged of his
cousin, as a great favour, to permit him to go
with Grimm, incog., and visit his own house in
Cavendish Square, and afterwards the yacht
at Greenwich, both of which had been made
over to him by Sir Edward. He wished to do
this as a stranger, and he gave many reasons
for it.
Sir Edward, not choosing to make his influence
JACK A8HOBE* 243
appear onerous, gave the necesBary letters to
his steward, who was to be Sir John^s hereafter,
if approved of, and to the person in charge of
the yacht*
In Cavendish Square the two seamen met
with a great deal of insolence, and in spite of
the earnest recommendation of their master that
respect should be shown to them, they ex*
perienced nothing but superciliousness and con*
tempt. All the events that we have narrated
had passed so rapidly, and were as yet known to
so few, that none of Sir Edward's establishment
was aware of what great changes had taken
place, and of what still greater changes were at
hand*
It would require at least three chapters to
detail the various ludicrous incidents of this
visit of the unknown master ; but we have not
the necessary space for the detail ; it is suffi-
cient to say, that Sir John followed his cousin's
advice, and chuckled exceedingly. After he
had had his own door slammed in his face before
almost the whole of his establishment, because
he had not feed them, he and Grimm made for
M 2
241 JACK ASHORE.
the nearest waterside with all despatch, and,
getting into a boat, were soon on board the
"Ann.*
Those were glorious moments, when Jack
first stepped on board. He actually crowed
like a cock with his sense of enjoyment. His
words were thick and hiccuppy with intense
pleasure. Grimm's delight was almost equal
to his own. Every part of the craft was exa-
mined and dwelt upon. All met their appro-
bation. Of course, a shroud or so wanted a
little more setting up, and a rope here and
there hauled a little more taut. But it was
so pleasant to find these trifling faults.
There were on board six men and two boys, all
well dressed and clean. There were still two va-
cancies, the one for the commander, the other for
the cook. Grimm did not then know the hap-
piness that awaited him in the first appoint-
ment.
They afterwards went below, and the cabins
were their admiration. When they were no
longer exposed to the gaze of the crew, they
shook hands together for nearly five minutes
JACK ASHORE. 245
vithout speaking. Their joy was too deep for
words. They then examined the stores, and
found them ample, and also an excellent supply
of spirits and choice wines. They rang the
bell, and had a delicious lunch. As Sir Ed
ward's letter told the person in charge to treat
the visiters as he would himself, and to obey
them in every particular. Jack found no obstacle
to all his wishes.
But suddenly our hero grew peevish and
fretful, and kept muttering to himself, '* He
would be d d if he did — wouldn't give it
up — sooner be keel-hauled— old Grimm might
have the house in the square if he liked— would
make as good a barrownight as himself — better
•—but as to the handling of this here craft
— tell that to the marines." At length he spoke
out
" I tell you what it is, father, you sha''n't
command this beauty.^
*< Never supposed I should, my son."
** Ah, didnH you ? So much the better for
you. But you shall be my first luff. So finish
the grog, and turn the hands up— up anchor.'*
246 JACK A8HORK.
€t
Ay, ay, sir,'* said Giles, quite officially,
^ but you know. Sir John, that you promiaed
to be sure and be home to dine at six, and it's
DOW nearly four."
*' Well said, father, but we'll just make a
reach down, and try a course or two for an hour,
or may be an hour and a half; and then we^
have a chaise-and-four up to town. I must
see the darling under canvass— there's a nice
breeze, and off we go.^'
The anchor was weighed. Jack himself took
the helm, and away they went, the very hap-
piest of human beings. Who then thought of
the dark rooms in the hotel ? Even the prudent
Giles forgot them. . Everything was lost sight of
but the excitement of enjoyment They were
soon round the NoreJight ; one of the men had
killed a couple of fowls and roasted them, and at
the very time Jack should have been sitting down
to dinner with his cousin and his lawyer, he and
Grimm went into the state cabin, and ate the
most relishing meal that they ever yet enjoyed*
After the wine and grog had played its part,
no one thought of going back. The weather
JACK A8H0&K. 247
WAS delightful^ the breeze a Bailor^s happiness.
So they stretched out to sea, settled the watch,
and then lapped themselves in Elysium. Next
morning they made the English coast, and
towards the evening, the *^ Ann,'' with a yacht
colour flying, was manoeuvring about the fleet
at Spithead, from which Jack and Giles had
been so recently discharged.
They did not make themselves known, and
thus, perhaps, enhanced their pleasure. How-
ever, they passed under the stem of the Old
Glory several times, without any apparent
reason for so doing.
It was three entire days before they re-
turned to their mooring ofi^ Greenwich ; having
during all this time, been the happiest
of the happy. When Jack had seen all snug,
and was about to leave, he felt rather queer^
and very much afraid to meet his good
friend. He had a great mind to stay on board
altogether, and to send Giles up as his substi-
tute ; but the remembrance of all his cousin'^s
kindness prevented him, and so he determined
to meet his anger, and humbly to submit him-
self to his reproof.
i4S JACK ASHORE.
On the evening of the fourth day from his
departure, Sir John, and Old Grimm at his
heels, were seen stealing into the hotel, like
two strange dogs fearful of a beating.
JACK ASBOBK. 249
CHAPTER XIII.
Not mucb to the credit of oar hero in ooe Mnee, yerj much in
mostr^Being his ovn master now, he takes to himself many
masters worse than himself, and profits rery considerably
—He generalizes in his studies, aod becomes Gentleman
Jack.
The incidents of drollery, and the laughable
absurdities, into which Sir John precipitated
himself, or was drawn into, it would be impos-
sible to narrate in any publishable compass.
We must therefore epitomize, and content
ourselves with saying, that Sir Edward was in-
defatigable and forbearing, and Mr. Singleheart
attentive to his interests, and not unsuccessful
in giving him some necessary habits of busi-
ness, and making him tolerably well acquainted
with the extent of bis fortune, his resources,
and the many advantages of his position.
M 5
250 JACK ASHOBK.
Sir John himself was determined to try his
new state of life for a year, and to sit down
earnestly and laboriously to attain those ac-
quirements that would adorn and dignify it
With many a sigh, and with a reluctance that
amounted nearly to agony, he relinquished the
command of the ** Ann," his beautiful yacht, to
his old fatherly friend, Giles Grimm, conscien-
tiously believing that, of the two^ Giles possessed
the happier lot. He endeavoured to find some
consolation in increasing the crew, and in giving
his commander strict injunctions to spare no
expense in making his boat the crack craft on
the river. We hardly need say that he tried
for the victory in all sailing matches below
bridge, won many of them, and on these occa-
sions always took the helm himself.
Sir John took possession of his town house in
Cavendish Square, much to the dismay and
confusion of the steward, and those inestimable
characters who make brilliant the servants^ halL
Jack admonished them in excellent quarter-
deck language, and they discovered that if
they felt inclined not to perform their duty with
JAOK ASflO]t£. 251
diligence to himself and his friends, and with
courtesy to strangers, they had better enter
their names upon the books of another ship^
Sir John, for the present, gave it out that he
intended to receive no company, and to visit
none. He had become an object of the greatest
curiosity, which was greatly increased by the
life of seclusion that he led. He had very little
to do in surrounding himself with all that was
necessary, for all the furniture that was not
heirloom he purchased of Sir Edward, as well
as his equipages and horses.
The only incident that we shall mention in his
quiet tenorof life, happened when the Stults of the
day called upon him with some brilliant specimens
of his art, in order to try them on; and the person
who brought the bundle was the identical little
gentleman whom Jack had pitched through the
window at the inn. This j-enoontre made the
man civil for life, notwithstanding that he was
^^ by trade a tailor/' The reader must bear in
mind that no ^man ever yet reached that state
of degradation that would make him confess
352 JACK ABHOBE.
himself a tailor simply and naturally ; he is a
tailor, it is true-— but only by trade.
Mrs. Snowdrop and her daughter Susan bad
paid their visit to town ; the mother bad secured
the bulk of her fortune to her daughter, and
the latter had been judiciously placed in an
establishment where all that is useful might,
all that is ornamental must, be acquired.
Susan accomplished both. All these arrange-
ments were made without the young lady having
had the opportunity of thanking Sir John in
person, who paid the expense^ or Sir Edward,
who had carried them into effect. We must
take leave of her for the space of more than a
year, being well assured that she will not
neglect the glorious opportunities afforded her,
of becoming as an accomplished young lady of
her age as any of whom this accomplished me-
tropolis could boast.
Sir John had been used to discipline, and be
naturally possessed perseverance, and great
powers of endurance— and endure he did. Mas-
ter succeeded master, until he had learned to
JACK ASHORE. 253
distinguish each one of the fifteen that attended
him, by his peculiar rap at the door. The weari*
some individuals ! Notwithstanding that they
possessed that which Jack was so desirous of
acquiring but an humble share of, he despised
them heartily. He condemned their pedantry,
be abhorred their meanness, and was thoroughly
disgusted with their sycophancy. They were
all, of course, procured by Sir Edward, and some
of them returned to him bitterly complaining.
The first fencing-master Jack had so thrashed,
so pummelled bis ribs by successful lounges in
tierce and quarte* and so seamed his face by cut
over thrust, that the man actually was afraid
to meet him the third time, and another was
substituted, who was esteemed as a superior
player and a harder hitter. He fared still
worse. He was rather arrogant, and a Norman.
He roused Jack'^s mettle by driving at him a
little savagely, perhaps in order to tame bin
pupil, to begin with — perhaps to give him a
favourable opinion of his vigour and science—
and perhaps to convince him that Jack was not
the proficient he fancied himself. Now Sir John
854 JACK ASHOBE.
bad been taught this particular science of the
small sword in all parts of the world — be had
become attached to it--and, neglecting all the
graceful, had studied only the effective. He
bad a great length of arm, and about ten times
the vigour of muscle of his master, who pressed
upon him more earnestly than was requisite;
and though he could not touch him, he made
use of some ill-natured sarcasms upon the un-
gainly manner in which he made his parries.
Monsieur Lescrimant grew enraged at this
impunity from his most scientific and vigorous
assaults ; so, summoning all his vigour, he ex-
pended it in one vengeful thrust, which Jack
coolly put aside with a wrenching half-circle,
that nearly twisted the man's arm out of the
socket of the shoulder.
<< Sacr^ nom de Dieu I que vous £tes bSte.**
** What's that. Monsieur Crappo ? bate ! it's
you thafs bate; look out, my fine fellow!'*
said Jack, firing up-Hind a terriUe thrust he
made.
The parry of the master was correctly
scientific, but his arm had not the nerve to
JACK A8H0BE. 25^
ward the blow — it merely changed its direction,
and taking a higher course, struck the wire
mask, the button was snapped off, and the foil
entered the parchment check of the Frenchman
on one side, and passed out on the other. Sir
John had to cure him, and afterwards made
him a pecuniary compensation — ^but Monsieur
declined giving him lessons for the future.
Sir Edward called upon his cousin to remon-
strate upon his violence, and then our hero
heard, for the first time^ with unfeigned sur-
prise, that he was to learn to fence, not to en-
able him to defend himself, or to offend an
adversary, but merely that he might acquire
the graces of position, the elegance of attitude,
and the deportment of a gentleman. The third
fencing-master found him as docile as a tamed
husband.
^ They might have told me so at first,^ said
Jack, **and saved the foils. However, it has been
of some benefit to Monsieur Lescrimant, as it has
given him a dimple on each of his parchment
chops. He was as ugly as a mad dog before.
256 JACK ASHORE.
and DOW he's improved to a baboon on the
broad grin.*
The broadsword was then the fashion, but as
Jack knew that this was taught for what it
really indicated, he punctually broke the heada
of all his masters at the first lesson ; so there
were none found who would undertake to conn
plete him in that branch of the art of self-de»
fence. It was pleasant to see men with bruised
limbs and bandaged heads assert that Jack
knew no more about the matter than a baby.
The greatest praise that Sir John could ex*
tort from his English master was that of pos-
sessing an excellent will. Jack loathed the
very sight of him. But he hammered over his
lessons fasting and full — half asleep and wake-
ful — ^in good and bad temper — with an industry
and a zeal that deserved a better success. Both
master and pupil looked upon his orthography
with blank despair* As the former could give
no reason why believe and receive were differ-
ently spelled, the latter thought the rules of
orthography more arbitrary than the Russian
JACK A8H0RK. *257
articles of war ; and as he had no other guide
but memory and sound — ^for all rules depending
upon derivation were out of the question — bis
improvement in spelling was as limited as
anything in the world that can boast of limits.
Dreadful and certain were the cramps in bis
fists, in improving his hand. This obstacle to
advancement he overcame in time, and wrote in
a tolerable character. He came on in arith-
metic very kindly, and made considerable pro-
gress in drawing. The returns for his applica-
tion in the French language were nil; and the
Latin elicited some of the most dreadful and new-
fangled oaths that spite ever discharged, and
ingenuity ever invented. But his good cousin
wished it— -so he thumbed his Eton grammar,
and swore on.
He took lessons in chess regularly, which
was a. great relief to him, and he became an
excellent player; nor had his mathematical
master any cause to complain of him. A pro-
fessor of chemistry attended him three times a
week, in order to give him a general notion of
that science, which was just then a staple in
fashionable conversation.
\
258 JACK ASHORE*
Buty amongst his annoyances. Jack found
some pleasures. His music-master was in rap-
tures with his great talents; and though he ex-
perienced, at first, much difficulty in reducing
Sir John's genius into the necessary trammels
of art, when that was accomplished there was
every prospect, not only of his becoming
a first-rate performer, but a gifted composer
also.
In Jack's own language, every lesson he had
to battle the watch with his dancing-master;
but we must suppose the dancing-master at
last conquered, for Sir John ultimately could
restrain his natural activity so much as to walk
a minuet with accuracy and grace.
In addition to all these studies, he took pri*
vate lessons in riding and driving ; and, as this
was the reign of Mendoza, and the Prince of
Wales of the time patronised boxing. Sir John
would willingly have received a course of lessons
in what is called by its admirers the ** noble art
of self-defence.'' But the professors had enough
of Jack in their first lesson each ; for he so be-
whacked them, and be-pummelled them, not with-
JACK ASHORE. 359
•tanding the gloves, that, with bandaged heads
and blackened eyes, they all declared that he
was unteachable, and had not the least requisite
to become a pugilist.
The minor graces were not forgotten, for our
hero took forty-three lessons, and an introduce
tory dissertation, in the science of gracefully
picking his teeth. This may be doubted by
the young of the present refined generation,
but their papas thought that everything that
was worth doing was worth doing well.
Many a time within the hour, and for hours
together, did Sir John long for the fresh breeze
upon his forehead, upon his own natural ds^
main, the forecastle. Often, when exhausted
and disgusted with his indefatigable attempts
to make himself a gentleman, would he have
compounded gladly for a middle watch in a
tempestuous night, and the ship trying it
under storm staysails. Gladly would he have
exchanged his Eton grammar and his Gradus
for the lead and the lee-mainchains, though
the line might be ' encrusted with ice, the
ship gunnel under, and the captain in an ill
260 JACK ASHOBE.
humour. But he was determined to persevere
to give it a fair trial, and then, said he, <* If I
can't weather baronet point, why, ifs up helm,
shiver the after-sails, and bear away for the
blue jacket and the tarry trousers.*^
Now it happened that this very sentiment,*
exactly thus expressed, was one day overheard
by his master in elocution, and very severe
indeed was the reprimand that followed. Jack
was all humility, but he thought it a much
worse tyranny than ever was exercised by the
most tyrannical po8t*captain that was ever
made unbearable by that worst of combina-
tions, idleness joined to ill-nature.
How heroical was the martyrdom of our
hero, may be, in some little, understood,
when it is known that he had totally abstained
from Smoking and chewing tobacco, and from
drinking anything stronger than the lightest
French wines. Excepting when he rode or
walked for exercise, he never left the house,
and it was sealed against all visiters, with
the exception of Sir Edward and Mr. Single-
heart. Everything, with these limitations.
JACK AfiHOBE» 261
was made as comfortable to him as possible*
A clever, humble, young person was installed
as his amanuensis, and so quiet was he in his
deportment, and so amiable in his manners,
that Sir John had need of all his fortitude, and
the cautionary eloquence of Sir Edward, to
prevent himself from making him his gossip
and his familiar friend. During this period,
female society he had none, and both the lawyer
and Sir Edward had great misgivings, that
some fine day, either Jack's cook or his house*
maid might be introduced to them as my Lady
Truepenny*
Many, and most ingenious, were the attempts
made upon our hero's acquaintance, but they
all proved unsuccessful* All letters were an-
swered by Mr. Hawkins, the amanuensis, to the
effect, that, for the present it was Sir John True-
penny^s intention to remain in perfect seclusion ;
and personal applications were met in the
same manner. Jack was always at home, but
never visible, with the exceptions before stated.
Many were the bribes that were resisted by the
conscientious amanuensis to procure for appli*
868 JACK A8HOEE.
cants only one little half*hour^8 interview with
the eccentric baronet. No one was more inde*
fatigable, both by personal attendance and by
letter, than Mr. Scrivener. His importunity
became, at last, so annoying, that the door was
closed against him, and his letters were re-
turned unopened.
Three months did Sir John persevere in this
discipline. All that were fashionable were, or
pretended to be^ out of town ; but Sir John
visited none of his estates, being kept in London
for the sake of his various masters, and wishing
not to appear before his tenants until he had
rubbed off some of the rust with which the
salt water had so much encrusted him.
If any one course of proceeding was more
calculated than another to make of our baronet
a first«rate lion, it was that which was adopted
by him, at the earnest entreaty of his high-
minded and disinterested cousin. All manner
of exaggerated rumours concerning him were
rife^ and they were as contradictory as they
were numerous. One set maintained that he
was a mere sea Caliban, and as drunken a swab
JACK ASHORS. S63
afl Stefano; another, that he was aa unique
model of marine heroism — that he was perfect
in form, and polished in manner — that be had
been an o£Bcer, and was a gentleman — and that
his avoidance of the world was nothing more
than his contempt for it, proceeding from his
highly rational and philosophical character.
One very strong party of female saints met
in conclave, and came to an unanimous decision
that he must be a heathen — and such a rich
heathen; nay, more — such a rich, unmarried
heathen. The gates of heaven, according to
them, actually creaked on their hinges with pain
that, as yet, he had made no effort to enter
them. They had some thoughts of proceeding
in a body on a conversion-crusade — indeed,
the young and the pretty strongly advocated
this measure, and had it not been for some
squabbles about preference, they would have
boarded him, with the Whole Duty of Man in
one hand, and the Seceder's hymn-book in the
other ; but they finally adopted, as a prelimi-
nary proceeding, the inviting him to a love-
feast, accompanied by a gentle admonition
touching the narrow and strait path.
1264 JACK ASHORE,
Jack sent his love to the coDcocters of th^
loye-feast) and told them that he had no time
at present for feasting, and still less for love ;
and, as to getting into the narrow path, he
hoped that there was elbow-room in the one
that led to paradise, or worse luck for him, as
he had not yet been able to conquer a terrible
roll in his gait
This answer, written in Mr. Hawkins's best
hand, was seriously taken into consideration.
The elderly saints thought it very wicked and
very rude, the younger that it was sinful, but
funny, and that the water-bred baronet might
yet, in the character of a sinner saved, escape
the fire that was hissing and roaring for all
those sinners that would not be saved precisely
in their own safe way of salvation.
The roues, and the whole and half-bred men
upon the town, whetted their tusks, and looked
out keenly for their prey. They said unceas-
ingly, the one to the other, *^ When will he
come out ?** ** When will he show ?" And
some of the leaders played at hazard among
themselves for the first plucking of a pigeon so
JACK ASHORE. 263
well feathered Inr the mean time. Sir John,
unconscious of the sensation that he was creat-
ing, grumbled and grew fat.
For our own part, we do not think that the
plan adopted for thus making our saOor sud-
denly a gentleman was a judicious — ^it certainly
did not prove a successful one. He had the
rudiments of too many things thrust upon him ;
he mastered nothing — ^he accomplished but very
little ; he knew only enough to know the ex-
tent of his own deficiencies. This made him, by
tumsy bashful and impudent ; it was depriving
him, in a great measure, of the blunt honesty
and the amiable naivete of the sailor, and giving
him instead nothing but a mass of non-naturals,
that destroyed all the simplicity of his charac-
ter, by adding a little to its refinement, and but
a very little indeed to its elegance.
This three months' probation had made some
marked physical changes in Jack. He had
.become much more corpulent, and his wind was
certainly not so good. His hands had become
very soft, and excessively white, but they really
looked larger than ever — ^perhaps they had par-
VOL. II. N
266 JACK ASHORE.
taken of his general obesity, and their exqui-
site colour made their size the more remarkable.
His fine curling auburn locks were frizzled into
fashion and deformity, and not a freckle or a
weather stain remained upon his fair counter
nance* It showed only the purest red and the
most delicate white. His teeth, however, were
resplendent. Upon the whole, he was more of
a beauty, but less of a beautiful man. Silly
girls and luxurious women would have said
that the change was glorious. But men, and
Jack himself, liked it not. Every morning,
when his valet had shaved him, and powdered
and made up his head, our hero would shake it
wofuUy over the glass like a dredgin^-^box,
and mutter despiteful things about monkey-
fied heads being thrust for a spell into ^* the
mess-cook's flour-bag." — Nevertheless, Jack's a
gentleman.
JACK ASHOBE. 267
CHAPTER XIV.
f ack Tindieated— Sir Edirtrd males the beat of a bad boii-
eas— Jack makes his d^bui before his rich coaaiii-heiresa*^
Makes himself ^eiy agreeable, although be g^ves good ad-
Tice — Shows bow to treat a fit of the sulks sticcessftilly^,
and does other great things besides play upon the iddle.
Jack's a gentleman. Such a gentleman ! Sneer
not, ye mongrels, who ruin tradesmen, and who
would ruin yourselves, had you anything worth
ruin to prey upon. In all the intrinsic essen-
tials, Jack was a g^tleman ; but much more
so before he attenlpted to clothe himself with the
vile artificials that make the current gentlemen
of the day. In his rough dress, on the foi^
castle of the man-of-war, the spirit of the gen-
n2
268 JACK ASHOBE.
ilemati was strong within bim. He scorned a
dirty act, simply because it was dirty. Among
seamen be was tbe foremost, yet be was never
arrogant ; in bis own circle, always ready to
protect tbe weak, to repel tbe aggressor, and
to stand up manfully against oppression. He was
generous, in a station where tbe exercise of the
least generosity brought with it its concomitant
privation; for when he gave, be gave almost
bis all — and he was continually giving. Bene*
ficent peers — almsgiving bishops — munificent
millionairefr— did your giving ever deprive you
of the whole, or even the half of your dinners ?
When the benevolence of any of you sends you
to bed supperless, take great glory to your-
selves, and say that you are ** as generous as
Jack."
And sailor Jack was very polite too. So at-
tentive to the wants, so considerate for the self-
love of others. His was not the humility of
ostentation. He loved to see everybody in
his place, and himself in the lowest And his
was a self-denial so beautiful. His song was,
among five hundred men, allowed to be tbe
JACK ASHORE. 269
best, and he sang it gladly when it was asked
for ; but was more gladly silent when others
sang. When he said that Bill Bobstay sang
** Sweet's the ship that's under sail ^ better
than himself, he was believed — no one ever
dreamed that he would disparage himself in
order to bait for praise. Jack was never known
to lie ; he was a gentleman, though he would
get drunk, chew tobacco^ and had been flogged
— «till we say, that on the forecastle Jack was a
gentleman.
And Jack is now a gentleman on shore, but
not so excellent an one, because not so natural.
With his new coating of gentility he had slipped
on some flimsy affectations, very recommenda-
tory to his present associates. But never mind —
his three months' probation is over, and Sir
Edward pronounced him to be — a little more
of the gentleman.
To Sir Edward Fortintower it is now our
duty to return. He was a strong, but very far
from being a perfect character. It was very
doubtful whether he would not have contested
the inheritance with Jack, inch by inch, and
270 JACK A8HOfiK.
yemr by yeir, had it not been for the iofluenoe
which his mistress had exercised over hinL
Having resolved to perform the noble part, he
had a great deal too much sense not to perceiye
that such a part could not be successfully acted
by halves. Id real generosity there is no
compromise — ^magnanimity admits of no me-
dium*
But this sacrifice pressed heavily on his
heart. His regrets were unceasing. He had
naturalised himself as a man of great wealth
and commanding influence, and his falling away
into poverty and comparative insignificance
corroded his spirits. Perhaps his virtue was
the greater, in proportion to the pain it
caused him to endure. Certainly, in the com-
mon acceptation of the word, he was not
herdcaL He did a great act of justice ; he did
it manfully, and thoroughly, but he did not do
it gladly.
He had need of all the consolations — of all the
tenderness of his beloved, to stimulate him to this
trial, and to support him afterwards. At first,
Anne Truepenny was much grieved to find that
JACK ASHORE* 271
this self-abandoDiaeDt of the pomp and circum-
stanoe of life was an ordeal so bitter to her be-
trothed ; but she afterwards considered that it
was more noble to walk through the fire when
the flesh shrank and the nerves quivered under
the flamesy than when so covered with the armour
of rectitude, and so safe under the shield of
higfa-mindednessy that they might curl around
harmlessly.
In his present strait, Sir Edward acted with
consummate prudence. He took the most
scrupulous care that his five hundred a year
was well secured to him. He sold everything
not belonging to the inheritance, to his more
fortunate cousin, for quite its full value. He
immediately entered himself for the bar. He
went into private lodgings on a second floor ;
and, after a little amiable coquetting with the
minister, upon an understanding that he was,
for the next parliament, to be brought in for
one of the close boroughs, he gave his adhesion
to the party in power, and was rewarded with
a sinecure of seven hundred a year.
This could not have been called ratting ; for
272 JACK ASHOBE.
in the days of his affluencei he had voted as often
for as against the ministry. But it was oer-
ft
tainly the knell of his independence. He was
no longer listened to in the house, and had no
further any trouble in hearings seeing, and
judging for himself.
At the time he was about to relieve Jack
from his embargo, produce him to the world,
and then permit him to shift for himself, his
income was about fifteen hundred a year, and
his expenses within one hundred. But of this,
seven hundred were enjoyed only during the
minister's pleasure, and was contingent on the
stability of the party then in power. This
was very precarious, as lately the opposition
,had made head considerably. But, at the
worst. Sir Edward might still consider himself
. as a man of property.
Much to his satisfaction, and not a little to his
astonishment, he did not lose caste among bis
friends and acquaintance. They observed the
prudent course of his actions, the unbounded
influence that he exercised over his cousin;
they more than tripled, in their opinion, his
JACK A8H0RR. 273
private resoureefly imd looked upon him, de-
cidedly, as a rising young man. No one doubted
but that he would, one day, marry the great
heiress; and being still a senator and a baronet,
in the outward demeanour of all men and
women he was still the courted guest, and the
vaunted acquaintance.
Now, as he had fulfilled every stipulation,
not only in spirit but to the very letter, he
called upon Miss Truepenny for the perform-
ance of her part of the contract, which was to
endeavour to prevail upon her grandfather to
join her in a petition to the Lord Chancellor
to set aside^ by a decree, what they both now
thought the very absurd provisions of her an*
oestor*s will.
This was the most delicate as well as the
most difficult undertaking that two young lovers
could have proposed to themselves. But Anne
was not the person to flinch from what she now
considered to be a sacred duty. Owing to the
very great age and infirmities of her grand-
father^ they had decided that they should make
K 5
874 JACK ASHOBE.
one great trial for his conseDty and thus avoid
wearying him by a oontiDued application.
He had already been made acquainted that
a nearer person to the honours of the house to
be resuscitated into grandeur had been dis-
covered, and that thus, in the person of Sir
Edward, the intent of the famous will could
not be accomplished. He had received this
intimation with the calmness usual to his
character. He bad made no remark upon it,
but seemed saddened to a very great degree,
for one who, like himself, had long ceased to
give expression to any emotion. Ever since
this intimation he had drooped, but without
any marked ailment, or any complaint issuing
from his passive lips.
It was on the first day of October that this
great question was to be tried between age
and youth, prejudice and passion. Sir Edward
had been with Sir John as early as nine o^clock.
Mr. Singlebeart had accompanied him. The first
part of the interview was passed in that which,
disguise it under what name you choose, was
JACK ABHOBE, 275
.really an examination into Jack's progress in
schooling. It was done with all manner of de-
licacy, but it was done effectually. Upon some
of these studies they praised his progress, in all
bis perseverance. They also perceived an un-
equivocal alteration in his manners ; but whe-
ther this were a subject of congratulation, or
the contrary, both the examiners hesitated to
pronounce.
Whatever might be their opinion, nothing
but the greatest and the most sincere cordiality
then subsisted between alt the parties.
They next proceeded to make Jack thoroughly
cognizant of all the matters relative to Sir Ed-
ward, Anne, and himself; and, finally, the great
object the two lovers had in view, and that on
«
that very day they intended to see what could
be effected. His presence, they informed him,
would be most essential.
Jack heard it all with deep attention, and
when he fully comprehended all the bearings of
the case^ he was seriously afflicted.
** Cousin,^ said he, ** you have been doing
your best to gentlemanize me. God knows it
276 JACK A8UORK.
has been a wearisome job to me — working
against wind and tide — ^foggy weather — ^and all
hands on deck constantly. Whether I have
made much headway, you are the best judges.
What Fve gained on one tack, I'm thinking
Fve lost on t'^otber. I'm like a long nine over-
loaded. They've rammed home wad and shot
till they've punched all the powder out of me,
and it's a doubt to me if ever I shall, be able to
go off at alL But thankye, cousin, all the same
— and again, again, dear cousin — for an honester
fellow I never fell athwart hause of before.
You see I can't hurt you by my grip now—
my hands are as tender as the rump of a new-
skinned pig, but my hearf s as tough and as
true as ever, and you shall have the girl — if
watching and working will do it%-8o let*s go
to the old commodore and give him a broadside
to that tune.**
** Your honesty and goodness of heart I
never doubted, John. But we must be very
gentle here. Old Mr. Truepenny is actuated
by feelings of which you can form no idea.
You are the very man that this absurd will
JACK A8UOKE. 277
ooDtemplated. Will you take the lady and the
fortune ? They will both be offered to you.**
** May I be d * d heartily and everlastingly
if I do ! No offence to your sweetheart, cousin.
Why not take all this cursed fortune you
gave me? — only leave me that beauty of a
yacht, with bub and grub, and Jack^s content."
*' But it won't do* John. You represent the
dder branch of the family, and it must be
in you that the honours of the family are re-
vived. An intermarriage with any but the head
of the Fortintower family would take away all
the benefit of the will ; and, though we both
derive from females, you inherit by the elder
branch. I think I haixe, more than once, made
that clear to you by our genealogical tree."
'* Why yes, cousin. But that jennylogical
tree seems to be all dead wood. It looks like
so many blocks, newly painted and varnished,
bung out upon lines to dry one under the
other ; and if so be I'm the head of the family,
why it'^s more a block than before^ for I sar-
tainly believe, notwithstanding all my learning,
that a blockhead I was bom, and a blockhead
278 JACK ASHORE.
I shall die. But let us come to the point, and
then well luff up and haul round it if we can.
It seems that I am a branch of this ginnyjogical
tree."
*' Genealogical."
*< Well, well, jennydogical let it be. Now,
seeing as how that I am a young man, you
can't expect, cousin, that I should commit
suicide^ and hang myself upon my own branch
of this here tree ; but anything short of felo do
you see I'll do, for I am plaguily in your way,
surely."
** Well, Sir John, I certainly cannot expect
that you would jump down your own throat —
but well just jump into your carriage, take up
Miss Truepenny, and then see how the land
lies ? Is that the right expression, John ?*^
^ That is as it may be ; if it is low land
you're loooking out for — why, you may ax — ask
I mean — how it lies ; but if the land is high,
like Beachy-head, you thould say looms. But
I believe, while I pity his ignorance, that it is
as hard to make a sailor of a landsman as to pur-
fessional niceties, 03 it is to transmogrificate me
into a gentleman.**
JACK ASHORE. 279
The party then repaired to Harley Street,
and Sir John was introduced with due form to
Miss Truepenny. The baronet placed himself
in the fifth position, then threw his right leg
out into the second, then drew himself up into
the first, and dropped the lady one of the
lowest and slowest bows that ever was offered
at the shrine of beauty. All present kept their
countenances admirably. It was evident that
the dancing-master had been abroad, and
that at the minuet-bow his pupil was quite at
home.
Miss Truepenny, notwithstanding she was
prepared to see a handsome young man, was
positively surprised at beholding so perfect and
so blooming a specimen of humanity. For one
moment, on beholding her. Jack forgot both
Poll and Sue, and the next he thought of them
both, and muttered — ** Blest if she ain't more
of an angel than Susan, and, as a woman, more
of a beauty than Poll."
*^ What were you pleased to observe. Sir
John Truepenny ?*' said the young laay, in a
tone, which, while it strongly reminded him of
280 Jack ashore.
Susan's, possessed a more faultless modulation,
and made his nerves tingle to his fingers* endti
for Jack was an enthusiast in music.
" Madame — Miss Truepenny — ^marm — I was
only thinking a thing that perhaps it would he
rude in me to say, and yet there was no harm
in it either.^
** Then by all means oblige me by saying
it»*' said the lady.
^ Saying it, madam, is easily said ; but how
am I to do that ? I am like a chimney-sweep
on May-day, I have a little tinsel and gold leaf,
and a few bows of ribbon put over my natural
self — so Fm neither one thing nor t'other. If
you ask me as a gentleman with three months'
learning, I should stumble at every third word ;
if as a sailor, I could pour in my answer like
a well-delivered broadside, point blank; but
then it would be all too rude and uncouth for
your delicate ears. I cannot open my mind to
you becomingly."
^* Speak it as a sailor. Sir John ; and more
gracefully, more becomingly you cannot speak.
In my very heart I love a sailor."
JACK ASHORE. 281
c<
Do you 8o» miss ? then God bless you for
that kind word, aud may he that loves you love
you with all a sailor^s honesty and sincerity,
and then the glory of the gentleman will be
something better than mere moonshine. But I
don't doubt him^ madam — I don't doubt him.
I was going to say as this, that if such a sweet
little cherub as yourself would smile upon the
life of poor Jack, as the song says, I would go
upon another tack than cousin Edward. If I
were you, Ned — I call you Ned for the first
time, as I wishes to look on you as a brother
tar — if I were you, Ned, I would not stand
shilly-shaUy about this will, and that will, and
t'^other will — Td mind no other will but my
own and this dear lady's — I'd splice at once ;
and if you hadn't enough to rig her out, dock,
and victual her — and she ought to be rigged out
like a queen, docked in a palace, and victualled
every day with a banquet — ^if I couldn't do all
this for her without labour, I'd work my hands
off, and then sheM honour you the more for it
But the Lord love ye, innocent children as ye
are — ^as.if you hadnH a home to go to, or money
2S2 JACK ASUOES.
to spend ; there is my town house, and my two
country seats I never saw, and my income I
don't know how to spend. Splice I say, and
I mean it — I know what I am offering, and
what I am trying at — ^I offer you what seems
needful for your happiness, and Fm trying for
my own, I think I shall fail at the trade of
gentleman. I should be as happy as the day
is long in my yacht, and a snug little cottage,
either at Greenwich or Gravesend. It would
not do to settle me at a regular sea^port ; the
temptation would be too strong — I should
be entering a manof-war again, either for the
sake of an old shipmate, or for the craft's crack
rig — or, perhaps, for the mere fun of the
thing, and that I liked it Now for your
whimsies and your scruples; after all Pm but
an interloper ; had it not been for a rogue of a
lawyer, I should still have been coiling down
ropes on the fo'castle of the Old Glory. Let
that pass — but for your scruples — I won't make
you a downright out and out gift of my for-
tune—I only ask you to spend the greatest part
of my income to keep up the honour of the
JACK ASHORE. 283
family. His majesty, Grod bless him! might
have told the Admiralty to make a warraot-
officer of me» but bell never make me a lord ;
but here's Ned— he^s acute chap, sharp as a
nor^aster in Janivary, and knows on which
side his biscuit's buttered — if all's true as I
heai's.''
Miss Morrison, Miss Truepenny, and the
lawyer, gave way to a hearty laugh at this
sally, in which Sir Edward very considerately
joined, though be thought the mirth a little too
much prolonged.
^* Well, cousin, you're a parliament man
already, and the king made you a baronet a
little while ago for your own merit ; — ^as to the
stuff about a vote in the nick of time, that
must be all gammon. You've a conscience,
Edward, and if any lubber was to tell me that
you voted against it, I'd punch his head —
that's all."
'' But I thought," said Sir Edward, '< that
you had led such a life of retirement that
calumnies of this sort could not have reached
you."
284 JACK ASHOftK.
^' Pooh ! since IVe been ashore Fve seen
more treachery in three months in one litde
room, and that's my study, than would last a
fleet of twenty sail of the line for twelve years.
I name no names, for the poor devils can't
divest themselves from their nature. Most of
the masters you sent me came like so many
spaniels, and first licking the dirt off my shoes,
began to try it on you, always beginning by
plastering you with praise, and then comes
their btU, So, at last, whenever they came to
this infernal but, I made it a rule just coolly to
give the chap a dout on his nob, Many's the
squabble I have had for your sake. I hope
this habit won't go with me into society."
*' I sincerely hope not The rascals V said
Sir Edward, with just the proper degree of vir-
tuous indignation.
'* Now for the rest of my plan. You are
spliced, and then you'll take your pretty wife
up to the king, and speak out boldly, and ask
him to make a lord of you. Mayhap hell say,
* You are not rich enough.' * There I have
you on the hip, your majesty,' you^'ll say. * It
JACK ASHORE. 285
is true that an interloping son of a gun of a
cousin of mine has just stepped in between me
and my estate — ^but Jack's a good fellow' — ^yes^
you may go as far as to say that ; and then
you may put in a word about poor Poll, and
ask him not to let her be hung; then you'll
crowd sail and go ahead by saying, < Jack and
I have agreed that what's Jack's is mine, and
what's mine's my own.' **
** What, in those very words ?"
" As near as may be— I don't think you^U
mend 'em— when you want to be understood,
there's nothing like plain sailing. Very well ;
then the king will very naturally say,
^ But what's to become of Jack ?' Then you'll
up and tell him, ' He's easily provided for — ^a
thousand a year will be the utmost he can
spend, and much more than he can spend, with
credit, upon his yacht and his cot — for I shall
attend to the pay and victualling department
myself; but I would recommend your majesty
to make him a custom-house officer — that would
give the fellow a little to do, and a very good
pretence for shoving his craft into all manner
286 JACK ASHORE.
of holes and corners, besides a protection to his
little beauty and her crew.*^
" Very well arranged, friend Jack."
^* His nmjesty, in course, can't see any objec-
tion. Then you goes at him to make you
the lord, and, in course, again says he, < Well,
here's misses fortune ^ for surely, when you are
a lord, that's all that ever was required ; and,
to my thinking, I have managed the whole
matter for you in an upright and downright,
creditable, shipshape fashion. Now try and
mend it."
^* I canH make you understand, friend John,
that Miss Truepenny's fortune is to be avail-
able only to the representative, the head, of our
house, and that person is yourself. However,
we will take time to think over the matter ; for
we are not going to be so simple and so hasty
as to accept forty thousand a year upon the
first asking. That would be a folly, and an
easiness of temper unpardonable. No, no, we
are not to be caught in that manner. In the
mean time, let us go and see what old Squire
Truepenny has to say on the subject"
JACK ASHOSK. 287
" Not yet, my beloved Edward^'' said Miss
Truepenny ; ^ my grandfather is never visible
until one o'clock. In the mean time, let us
prolong our conversation, for I do assure you
I enjoy Sir John's society amazingly. Will
you have the goodness, my dear sir, to make a
few more arrangements for Sir Edward and
myself? Sir Edward, especiaUy^ requires some
prudent person to think for and to advise
him/'
'^ No doubt of it, miss — not the least doubt
of it in the world. No blame to him — none.
In course, as to a parliament speech, or the
buying of a coach and horses, or the handling
a coffee-cup, or the backing and filling in and
out of a room, why, I'm no more to him than a
jolly-boat is to a first-rate ; but for matters of
prudence, and whafs to be done in life, and a
knowledge of the world, and a seeing right
through men, I think Jack's his master. Not
that rd undervally my cousin's gumption.
But he has not had the proper eddication. He
never served aboard a man-of-war. For mat-
288 JACK ASHOKE.
ters of business on a large scale, give me the
thorough-bred sailor.**
** Sir John, Sir John^ how can you talk this
way ?^ said his cousin, laughing. << How often
have you confessed to me, that in this world,
so new to you, you are like a babe in the
wood ! Am I to take instruction from babies,
although they may be six feet high, and were
brought up by the hand on board of a man-of>
war?''
" Cousin — marm — Mr. Singleheart — you
don't take my meaning. There's the doing of
what's right, and the manner of doing it. Now,
this here's a sample — this pretty lady — Grod bless
her dove's eyes! — asks my fine cousin Edward to
give her that music-book from t'other end of
the room. No offence, Ned, but ten to one,
yhat does he ? Why, first of all he grins and
shows his handsome teeth ; then he lays the
broad of his hand flat upon the lappel of his
coat ; and then drops you a bow, that, with
ducking down and plucking up, takes a minute
by any glass in the fleet. That done, he grins
JACK ASHOftK. 289
at you again, and makes a 8peech| svrings him-
self round upon his heel, and then makes sail ;
be stops three or four times to compliment one
fine lady, and make a congee to another-«all
very beautiful to look at — ^but miss wants the
book.''
*^ Excellent, my worthy Sir John*-I do want
the book — ^but pray don't hurry— I could listen
to you for hours. Well, he has reached the
book.*'
** Not yet, marm : first of all he looks at it.
He thinks it is rather dusty, and that puts him
in a quandary. He don't want to spoil his
white kid gloves — and he would not dust it
himself for a guinea a whisk — so ptrhaps he
pulls the bell; and when the servant comes,
the man looks round the room like a dog that
has lost his master in the fair. All this while
miss wants the book — and yet, cousin is doing
the most proper thing in the world. At last,
Sir Edward says, says he — ^for he had fallen
into talk with a big-wig — ^he says, < Oh, ah,
Thomas, yes— true — that — a — ha — book— is a
TOL. II. o
290 JACK ASUOEE.
little dusty — ^not fit to be handled— heh ?^ So
the roan travels down stairs for summut, and
the book is polished; and, by this time, if
Ned hasn't forgot all about it, he says, very
composedly, * Just take that book to your
mistress.^
" No, no — I protest,** said Sir Edward, a
little annoyed at Jack's successful attempt at
mimickry.
** Yes, yes — the thing has happened to me
often,*' said Anne, excessively amused. '* Now,
my exquisite Sir John, let's hear how the man-
of-war's man would do it.^
" Do it, miss,— before you could say * do it,*
it would be done. Off like a shot, and back
as quick and as straight as an arrow.***
*^ But the book is dirty, you know.**
'' What o* that ? If it was as dirty as a"
lawyer's conscience — uo offence, Mr. Single-
heart— he would polish it with the tail of his
coat as clean as a bone when the ship*s company
is six upon four, before he placed it in the
lady's pretty hands.**
JACK ASHOEB. 291
^' Now for the applicatiou^ Sir John — that
is, how does this bear upon the business of
life?*^ said the lady.
** How does it bear? point blank upon it.
The real downright business of life isnH so
much as you think — it is made up of a few prin-
cipal acts — so all you have to do^ is to do them
right, and do it quickly — go right an end on for
what's proper — don't stop for the shilly-shally,
the bowing and grinning, and the posturing, to
make people stare. Now I'll tell ye why, with
all my knowledge of the world, Tm like a babe
in the wood — ^because this long-shore world is
a world of little things, where the manner of
doing trifles is everything — ^all seeming, marm
— all seeming. Here have I been learning, for
three tedious months, to eat, drink, talk, and
walk ; and, to my notion, I could eat, drink,
talk, and walk, a great deal better before I
took lessons— at least, more to the purpose."
^* I like him excessively, Edward ; upon my
word I think he'll make me a convert,"^ said
Anne. " My dear Sir John, pray go on."
*^ No^ miss; I don^t think you're laughing at
292 JACK ASHORE.
roe, for that wouldn't be generous* But I do
think that you are a little surprised that I
should be so bold as to let you understand that
the mind that is, as it were, swaddled in down,
is likely to be a little weakly and soft, or so.
But donH ye think that Fm for despising all
the little elegancies, the carving and gilding
the filagree gingerbread work — only don''t
overdo it— don't let it weaken the timbers, like
the Old Glory'^s figure-head, and be damned to
it — saving your presence, marm — ^but that in-
fernal family party had as nigh got me six
dozen — ^but beg pardon — you gave me leave to
speak like a sailor, and Fm going through the
water at a precious rate.^'
*' Well, all I can say is, that I would sail
with you at this rate for hours. But you must
not have it all your own way* Every society,
Sir John, and every circle of every society, and
every family of every circle, have their peculiar
manners. ' I know that you will not only do
honour to our class of society^ but to our parti-
cular circle, and to our family also. You will
soon acquire a little of the polish of our man-
JACK ASHORE. ,293
Ders, and I only wish we could be as certain to
acquire a little of the sincerity of yours. But
I am playing the orator, and I am sure, just
now, I could learn niiore of Sir John than I
could teach him. Tell us what you really
think of our way of living, as it is likely to pro-
mote your happiness,* said Miss Truepenny.
*^ No^ no, with submission, miss, I won't talk
any more — I will sit and listen. I am really
ambitious to become one of your circle— and as
I intend to be a baronet out and out, I shall do
all I can to become elegant, and that Fm deter-
mined, please the pigs.***
" Very well — I like you extremely— now let
me see you make some attempt. Never mind
Sir Edward and our good friend Mr. Single-
heart. Suppose that you and I were alone;
suppose me not in the best of humours, and
that I wished for something elegant and refined
to amuse me^ and make me a little less the
naughty girl — and suppose you had dropped in
merely accidentally, and found me sitting this
way. What would you do ?'*
Anne flung herself upon a sofa, affected a
o 3
294 JACK A8HORK.
pretty pout, and began with a graceful pettish*
ness to pull to pieces a fine nasegav.
*' May I do what would come into my mind,
and no offence?'' said Jack, looking very
archly.
** Why, yes," said the lady, with a little
hesitation ; '^ for I am sure you would not de-
ceive me, by doing or saying anything that
ought to give offence."
" I don^ know — I'll try not. When shall I
begin ?"
*^ Directly ;" and the lady looked in worse
humour than ever.
Jack turned his back and retired a few paces,
and when he faced aboutf everything seemed
changed in his identity. The party were as-
tonished. They confessed to themselves, if act-
ing, his present acting was inimitable ; if, for
the first time, he had assumed his natural cha-
racter, his past acting must have been a miracle.
He advanced gracefully, he trod lightly, and
approached the young lady with an elegant
awe, whilst she, between admiration and mirth,
could scarcely keep her countenance.
JACK ABHORS. S95
Mimicking Sir Edward's voice and inannner^
he b^an — *' My dear young lady I has any one
presumed ? O la ! dear me now ! Those pretty,
pretty flowers ! happy flowers^to die the velvet
death of that tiny white hand* Is it not better
to perish like those flowers at once, under a
beautiful eye, than to grow old and withered,
and become a shrunk-up stalk — and then to be
cast aside at last, because we have become
odious and disgusting ? — no— let me die like the
dolphin, the most glorious in the hour of his
death. That rose, you have torn it to pieces —
yet every piece is still beautiful — I defy you.
Miss Anne, to remember that flower but by its
beauty — though you have destroyed it, there is
something sweet and — and something like a ship
that's under sail — even in its ruin — it 'did not
die of age — "
^* Sir John, who has taught you this ?'' said
the lady, utterly surprised.
^* Taught me ! dear Miss Anne. Nature —
but it is not mine — I have looked into your
heaven of a face, and saw it all there — and have
only been taught by nature to read ofi^ what I
see, just as the master, when he takes a lunar,
S96 JACK A6UOR£.
reads off from his sextant the degrees and
rainutes. But there is much more in tliat lovely
book that I can read, yet words have not yet
been made for it*— and never will be, till we get
up aloft, where there is a better light by which
to read so fair a book. I know, as my master
in elocution says, that * I am rude in speech — I
only speak right on — tell you that which you
yourself do know — a plain, blunt man; but
were I an orator,' as the — the — the chaplain is—
there were a chaplain that would draw a smile
from those lips — but all my golden words are
spent — and you are still sorrowfuL Music has
charms to soothe — oh — we should never mention
anything rude. You will not talk — will you
listen to me ? ^ I cannot talk myself— if you had
a fiddle in the house P
^* A fiddle,** said the lady, jumping up with
animation, and forgetting her assumed charac-
ter, ^' you shall have one directly^ my dear Sir
John. But you bewilder me — you have used
words and sentences that quite astonish me —
and then your manner — so different, so very
different — so soft, and yet so natural I"
** Well,'* said Jack, " I don't know whether
JACK ASUOftE. *297
you like it, but I don't. I used to play the she
parts in the stage-plays' we got up^ and so
learned the trick of talking soft like a woman ;
and as to the words^ why, when I try hard and
think, I can put them sometimes together, but
not for long.^
« The fact is,** said Sir Edward, " that you
are bom a poet."
A fine cremona was soon procured and placed
in Sir John^s hand. He played several popular
airs and sea tunes, but all with variations and
fantasias after his own peculiar untaught style ;
aud much of this was so touching, so soft, and
so exquisite, that it drew tears of silent plea-
sure and deep emotion from the eyes of Anne
Truepenny, and affected even the sterner nerves
of the gentlemen. When Sir John ceased, he
said to the lady^ ^* If it ever should be my lot
to endeavour to make' love to a person like
yourself^ I'll take good care to belay my jaw«
ing tacks, and scrape into her good graces.''
" Believe me^ Sir John — with very little
effort on your part, you will accomplish any-
thing and everything. You had better take care.
296 JACK ASHORE.
Sir Edward — I don^t know a person who might
become a more dangerous rival ; I like him
already excessively. , Let us now go to my
grandfather's.'*
Tliey repaired thither, but from that morn-
ing some undefined feeling of jealousy and dis«
like to Jack sprang up in the bosom of Sir Ed-
ward. He disowned it himself, and would have
quarrelled with any one who had charged him
'with it. There it was nevertheless! and adding
daily, nay hourly, to its growth. Pity is it,
and much to be deplored, that our best fortunes
do not always arise from our best feelings ; for
this very unjust dislike, instead of entailing a
penalty on Sir Edward, promoted and after-
wards accomplished his highest wishes, and that
too without involving him In any act of guilt, or
of apparent injustice, to Sir John, beyond the
injustice of the dislike itself ; whilst to the sailor
l)aronet it entailed upon him a crowd of mi-
series that wrecked his gallant heart, and nearly
stranded him for ever. What a sad thing it is,
that the finest moral sentences are often so little
in accordance with truth ! Men make them,
JACK A8H0R£. 299
but fortune disproves them. It is a happy
thing indeed for Virtue that she is her own re-
ward, for really she seldom gets any other, at
least in this world.
Now, without fuUy understanding his mo-
tives, Sir Edward was resolved to leave his
cousin henceforward to his own resources ; and
many excellent reasons occurred to him for so
doing ; as for example— the world should not
say that he kept him, for his own interest, in
leading-strings— that he really had talent enough
to be independent of his advice — that when he
found he had to trust to himself, he would be
more wary, with many more reasons of the same
description : — ^but the real one of this proposed
abandonment did not occur to him — that he
was jealous of him.
In their way to the old gentleman^s, Sir Ed-
ward was serious even to sadness ; but this ex-
cited no surprise, as it was considered that the
nature of the meeting might more than account
for it. Miss Truepenny was employed upon a
review of the best arguments to use to forward
their niutual views, and the lawyer was arrang-
800 JACK ASHORR.
iog in his own mind the differeDt steps in the
anticipated application to the Lord Chancellor ;
whilst Jack was far away in his thoughts from
all of them, he being then with his PoU in pri-
son, and speculating upon the result of her
trial, which he had interest enough to get
postponed for one session ; and be ardently
wished that he should be able to avoid appear-
ing against her, as the evidence was complete
without him ; and that this might be the case,
he had some very good grounds for believing.
EKD OF VOL. II.
LONDON
lOOTSON AND PALMBR, PMNTCllS, SAVOY-flTRBBT, STRAND.
JACK ASHORE.
VOL. III.
JACK ASHORE.
BY TH^ AUTHOR OF
" RATTLIN THE REEFER,'' " OUTWARD BOUND,
»
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. III.
LONDON :
HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER,
GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
1840.
LONDON
IBUTSON AND PALMSR, PRn«TmM,
■ATOv srasxT, sriiAxn.
CONTENTS
OF THE THIRD VOLUME.
Chaptbe I. — The important Traepenny will argued—- Old
age obstinate, and youth graaping — Proa and cons ; and a
set speech pro» well conned—- Jaok givea excellent coonael,
and, in hia turn, is counselled to put his cousin's handaome
nose out of joint — Girea a flat refusal to flatten hia reiation*a
nose . . • • • Page 1
Chaptbr Il.*-Jack, a second time, tries his hand at letter-
writing— Succeeds— His cousin gprows jealous, which is
bad, and ahowa it, which ia worse— Jack ia taught how to
behave in aociety— Visits, and behavea intolerably, but
finally whistlea himself into general favour, and leavea
with a. love affair and two duela upon his hands • 41
Chaptir III.— Jack*s double duel, and hia aingular prepara-
tions'*- Beats both hia adversariea, and oomes off with' flying
colours — Jack's school of fencing proved to be the best —
He makea various friends, who make themaelvea very free,
particularly at Jack'a expense • • .60
▼1 CONTENTS.
Cbaptik IV«— Jiek mtniM in haste, to hare the mora laisare
for repentaiioe— Leisure, however, he cannot find, yet re-
penteth notwithstanding^— Sir Edward also manies, and
gmmUes ezceedingljr — Fsmiljr jara — full of trouhlea — and
frothy with complainta • • 8S
CaAPTsm V^-»A oonTersation hetween two ladies, in which
matrimonj is discussed, and the imperatiTe duty of daiMS
to show a proper apirit insisted upon • 98
CBAPTBm VL — The paraUe of the fiit ox and the blackhirds
— Jack goes on badly — ^Tskes up with low rices and low
eompanions, snd consequently is often taken up himself—
Goes into the.oountry, snd tslks about election matters-
Shows his ignorance by showing his patnotism— Forms
his own resolution • • .110
CaAmm VII.^Jack plays sad pranks— Frightens his .com-
pany, robs the rector, astonishes the doctor, and mortally
ofienda the lord lieutenant— in fact, beooases s rery bad
boy, neglecting his wife, and cultivating the bottle— Elec-
tion mattera further discussed— How to shoot flying, snd
to aasrk your game • • • • 134
CHAPTsn Vniw— Jack'a first lesson in partridge-shootings-
Laughed at by the colonel — Thoae laugh best who laugh
laat — Jack hits his mark, however, and tries his powers
ofconsolstion • . • • 16S
CnAFTsn IX.— 'Contains only the nport of sn election dinner
— Msy therefore be passed over ss commonplsce 170
Cbaptxs X.<— Showeth how to get op a deputation, and bow
to get it well off; and also how well to answer it— How to
CONTENTS. VU
make the wind fair— Sound ateeple doctrine— How to re-
ceire a deputation, and what to expect for dinner on a
banyan day • • . . • 186
Cbapter XI. — Preparationa for a ball, and aome reflectiona
thereupon^ProTiding for' fun — The proridera at fault-
Jack and the linendraper — They take their meaaures toge-
ther—The piece doea not run ahort . • S16
Chapter XII.— The ball — ETerything in apple-pie order—
A grand arriral — ^The people atnmble into the pit Jack
had dug for them—- All the world turned courtiera— The
followera of the fox at fault — After-dinner apeechea— Con-
atemation, explanation, and termination • . S37
Cbaptbs Xlllrf-^ack proceeda from bad to worae — Promiaea
amendment, and learea even the hope of it behind— Heara
fenful newa, and ia fearfully affected — Preparea to act, and,
when too late, makea aome rery excellent reflectiona . 26X
Chapter XIV^— The criaia and the exploaion— Colonel Chaae-
hell geta a terrible tumble, and Jack terminatea, for the
preaent, hia race of ruin in a mad run^Ererything looka
black and deaolate, and nothing ia left but hope • S81
Cbaptir ' X v.— Raya of hope and comfort^Old and true
frienda re-appear— Jack eacapea— Goea to ae»— Condu-
aion ..... 308
JACK ASHORE.
CHAPTER I.
Tbe important TruepdnBy will argued — Old age obstinate
and yonth grasping-^Pros and eons ; and a set speech pro,
well conned — Jack gives excellent counsel, and in his
tarn, is counselled to put his cousin's handsome nose out of
joint — Gires a flat refusal to flatten his relation*8 nose.
Ma. TsuEPENinr had passed the age when he
might have been termed a very old man — he
was ancient, and was looked upon, not only
with awe, but with wonder. He seemed not
to belong to the surface, but to the bowels of
the earth, for there was the mouldiness of the
VOL. Ill* B
^ JACK A8H0ER.
grave upon his features. We have already
said that he was very deaf, yet his eyesight
was still tolerable^ and his voice, though reedy,
sufficiently loud for the purposes of conversa-
tion. In everything that he did, he seemed to
act more like a machine^ than one whose
moving impetus was that of an immortal soul.
He woke and slept and ate with the punctu-
ality of a sun-dial — which, when rightly read,
we look upon as the most punctual thing ex-
isting.
He lived only in the past, he breathed in
the present, and he stood so nearly upon the
threshold of the eternity of the future, that
everything passing around him was to him
matter of the smallest interest, — with one single
exception — that of working out the intent
of the will of his ancestor. It seemed that for
this, Providence had spared him beyond the
age of post*diluvian man.
He was seated in his principal drawing-room,
in a high-backed arm-chair, well furnished
JACK ASHORE. O
with cushions. There was but a dim and
solemn light diffused through the apartment.
To his left and to his right sate two old men^
one the family lawyer, and the other a venerable,
and, with the exception of Mr. Truepenny, the
only surviving trustee to the will — a trust that
he had inherited from his father, and which he
had already devised, by his testament,^ to his son.
Supported by Sir Edward Fortintower,
Anne Truepenny advanced towards her grand-
father's arm-chair, and stooping down, kissed
the old man upon his forehead. A faint irra«
diation, the spectre of a smile, passed over his
rigid features, which then quickly settled down
into the marble of insensibility. For many years
her kiss had been the only talisman to cause
even that shadow of pleasure to wander, like a
lost spirit, over his countenance.
Sir Edward did not even dare the familiarity
of shaking hands. He bowed reverently. Sir
John Truepenny, as he advanced up the room,
and caught a distant view of the elder, started
B 2
4 JACK ASHORE.
at beholding a living being so very old. He
bowed also, and with Mr. Singleheart remained
standing at the foot of the table. Anne sate her-
self down on a low chair beside her ancestor,
and taking his cold and slirivelled right hand b^
tween her own hands, looked up with anxiety
and tenderness into his eyes, which still possessed
the speculation of humanity. They seemed like
two sparkling pieces of jet» embedded in moss.
Sir Edward, at a grave motion of Mr. True-
penny, had seated himself near the family
lawyer, Mr. Winterton. It was some time
before any one spoke — when, at the motion of
the aged man, Mr. Winterton, in a loud, dry,
unimpassioned voice, with no apparent con-
sciousness that the direction of a vast fortune,
and the happiness of two young creatures, de-
pended upon the decision, read, from a paper,
as follows :
*^ ^ We have met, at the petition of Sir Ed-
ward Fortintower and of Anne Truepenny, to
consult on the expediency of taking proceed-
JACK ASHORE. 5
ings before the Lord Chancellor, in order to
annul the trusts under the will of Stephen True-
penny, so that the estates under the said will may
be enjoyed by the present heir, Mortimer True-
penny, Esq., and his granddaughter Anne, his
sole heiress in remainder, to the intent and
purpose of preventing a further accumulation
of the said property, for the attainment of va-
rious objects specified in the said will/ Are you
content, Miss Anne Truepenny, to join in a
petition to the Lord Chancellor to effect this ?* ^
*' I am — I much desire it,'' said the lady
emphatically.
** Are you content, Mr. David Dropandie,
speaking as a trustee ? "
** I would first hear what says ancient Mr.
Truepenny. May my years equal his P said
the old man.
'* What does he say ? A worthy man is
friend Dropandie — but has one failing — he
can't speak out — ^have had him on my knee as
a child — he could speak out then— -but he
JACK ASHOKB.
grows old, and loses his voice ; what says he ?^
Thus spake Mr. Truepenny.
** He says,"* roared out Mr. Wintertoo,
'^ that before he speaks, he would hear your
opinion, and that he may live to number your
years.**
** He said so? hey ! — did he say so? — ^he is
not so wise as he was, and yet a very worthy
man is Mr. Dropandie. A winding-sheet and
a comfortable coffin — those are luxuries of
which foolish old men are fearfuL David
Dropandie, you are a hale man yet^but wish
neither to live nor to die. Trouble not yourself ;
your living and your dying are cared for. Fear
God, David, and speak up always.*'
** I will, worthy Mr. Truepenny, I will take
a note of your valuable words,^ screamed out
Mr. Dropandie, at the same time taking out
his tablets.
"Are you content to petition the Lord
Chancellor?" resumed Mr. Winterton, in his
usual loud key, addressing Mr. Truepenny.
JACK Asuoas 7
** As yet, gossip Winterton, I am not content
—on. the contrary, I am discontent. I require
quiet — I pant for quiet — I am disturbed, and I
am discontent. But still, I will hear reason. Let
me hear reason. Who is going to wake me hear
reason ? Generations have held this will sacred
— ^let the reasoner mind that, and then let him
reason — I will hear reason.'*
" Mr. Truepenny/' said Sir Edward, quite
as loudly as if he had been addressing the
speaker in the house of commons, ** I rise with
the full intention of blinking no part of this
very delicate question — a question, Mr. True-
penny, that involves the disposition of immense
property, and the happiness, I may almost say
the existence, of those near, and who ought to
be — and, I am not out of order in saying, who
are— very dear to you."
*' Keep up your voice, young man, and
speak slowly,^ was the encouraging interrup-
tion.
** I will keep up my voice — I will measure
8 JACK ASHOBE.
out my words — - and, I have only to add, bow
much I regret that this momentous task has
fallen to the hands of a person so utterly un-
worthy and incompetent as mysdf— but had
any other honourable member, person I mean,
come forward to relieve me of this great
responsibility, not only would I have gladly
surrendered this important motion to his
guidance, but humbly and gladly would have
followed in his steps."
** Little Anne, little Anne — what is the young
man talking about ? — I hear him, but compre-
hend not— did he say he. was unworthy and
incompetent — a solemn deed set aside for one
unworthy, and — ^
*'For me, dear grandpa — for your little
loving Annie.^
''Well, well, I will hear reason — ^but the
youth must come to the point, or I shall go to
sleep."
'' Such wills," resumed Sir Edward, ** asthat
under consideration, are directly against a true
JACK ASHORE. 9
aocia] polity. Wealth is only valuable in its dis-
persion—and it is, or it ought to be, fully under-
stood, that the community at largesuffer immense
property to be accumulated in the hands of the
few, solely because such accumulations tend, ul*-
timately, for the benefit of all, by bringing capital
into operation in such great quantities, that im*
portant works may be undertaken, employment
diffused, and thus fresh capital created."
** That is very sensible->but let every man
look to himself. It is the Truepenny interest
that is now the question, not that of the com*
munity at large," said the old man, with more
energy than could have been expected from
him.
** Well, let us consider the will only with a
reference to its own intents, and the aggran-
dizement of the Truepenny family. Before
Sir John's existence was discovered, I, in my
poor person, seemed marked out as the organ
by which its originator^s most sanguine wishes
could be accomplished. I was then the ac-
b5
10 JACK ASHOBE.
knowledged head of the Fortintowers. My
supposed property alone was equal to support
the dignity of the peerage, not only suitably
but splendidly— whilst the accumulation of the
Truepenny estates has become so immense, that
princedoms could not exhaust its revenues. It
was contemplated by the founder of this pro-
perty, that no inconsiderable portion of it was,
at the right time, to be expended in the pur-
chase of those honours, that, I think, I can
myself procure without any expense whatever.
I enjoy the confidence of the minister of the
day, and I am not disagreeable to the sovereign
himself. Though my present income is all too
little even to support me as a gentleman, yet
you must bear in mind that when I was
affluent enough to hope for a peerage upon my
own capabilities, I hesitated to obtain it until I
had joined my fate with that dear lady's, and
thus together had we worked out the intents of
this absurd wilL*^
But here Mr. Winterton spoke: "I have.
JACK ASHORE. 11
Sir Edward Fortintower, protected and upheld
this will for fifty years with all my legal ener-
gieSy and watched over it with all my legal
experience. In my hearing, it shall not be
called absurd — it is a superb, a glorious will
— there is a clause in it that provides, whilst
its conditions are unfulfilled, that the attorney
who shall watch over it shall receive five
hundred per annum. My father, and my
father^s father watched over it — and gloomy
will be the day when the trustees shall unite to
set it aside — and let me tell you, Sir Edward
Fortintower, that you can claim but little
merit for your forbearance in not pushing your
fortunes when you were in the full enjoyment
-of your income — for that income was never
rightfully yours.**
** Mr. Winterton, do not make me your
enemy. I did not know that the Fortintower
estates were not rightfully mine, and the
promptitude with which I relinquished them
IS JACK A8HORB.
should shidd me from any imputation on that
subject^''
^ Right, right,** said old Truepenny. << It
is a good boy — ^bring him hither, child, and I
will shake hands with him ; I will — >*
It was the first time that Sir Edward had
been so honoured, and it emboldened him
accordingly. He thus proceeded :
'^ Pray, Mr. Winterton, do not consider me
your enemy. I am sure that you do not wish, for
yourself and for your descendants, to create a
freehold in this will. No Lord Chancellor
would suffer that. Small has been the labour
and little the anxiety that you and your ances-
tors have endured for so many five hundreds
of pounds, derivable through this singular will.
I verily believe that it could be brought within
the statute of mortmain. Yet I will speak
like a man of business, Mr. Winterton : if the
trustees and the heiress shall join to petition to
the setting of it aside, and you will throw no
JACK ASHORE. 13
obstade in the way, I will, when the document
is pronounced null and void, undertake to
make you any consideration that you may
choose to name/*
** The youth is reasonable — these be reasons
— ^he cometh to the point,** said Mr. True-
penny. **He hath showed Mr. Winterton
much reason, but me, none.^
Mr. Winterton looked warily, first at Sir Ed-
ward and then at Mr. Singleheart. Jack
certainly muttered something— for his lips were
seen to move, and some sounds nearly approxi-
mating to ** bloody rogues" were indistinctly
audible. Mr. Winterton said not another
word during the conference.
*^ Set aside this will," continued Sir Edward,
^ let me marry the lady to whom I have been so
long betrothed. Though my'fortune is gone, my
talents, my standing in parliament, my political
influence, are still the same, Miss True-
penny^s wealth is so great, that the loss of mine
will not be missed— and the junction of the two
14 JACK ASHOBK.
families, with the attainment of the peerage, will
fully and conscientiously fulfil the intentions of
your ancestor; though in the mere words it
may not be so. I now present to you, Mr. True-
penny, Sir John himself, who will, as far as he
is concerned, fully bear out all that I have said.
I have spoken nothing of our hearts — ^nothing of
the aifections— -nothing of our two years^ engage-
ment. Speak, Sir John Truepenny, and tell
Mr. Truepenny that you consent to the setting
aside of this will — which stands between me
and happiness, and the happiness of that dear
young lady.*"
For the first time, old Mr. Truepenny re-
garded Jack attentively, who, in his turn,
stared on the awful antiquity. Jack was taken
so much by surprise, that he forgot his
dancing-master, and his master of elocution,
and every other master ; he found himself
seizing the hair over his forehead^ ducking his
head, and scraping back his right leg, after
which he hailed him as if he were hiinself on the
forecastle and the old man in the foretop.
JACK A8H0R£. 15
^* Please your honour, as far as I undercum-
stumbles — that is to say, understands this here
foul hause — cut the will adrift, and let it float
to the deviL Tause why — "
'* Sir John, Sir John," said Anne, reproach^
fully ; ** why not speak now, as you spoke to me
in the drawing-room not two hours ago. Dear
grandpapa, he can be the gentleman if he likes,
and something better — he can indeed !"
** I was play-acting then, Miss, and this is
too serious a matter for joking. Mr. True-
penny, if the two young folks like each other,
let them marry, and God bless them. I have
already offered them all my fortune, bating the
yacht and enough to keep her and me afloat —
there^s more than enough for them both, and
the peerage into the bargain. Then settle the
will among you — ^it's out of my soundings al-
together. Wouldn't say anything disrespect-
ful to you, old gentleman, but if that pretty
sweet young lady is your own flesh and
blood-'*
16 JACK ASHORE.
^* Sole remnant of our house,^ said the aged
man emphatically.
^* There it is,'* said Jack. You long shore
folks never talk about the hearty but it is the
hotise — and whilst a sailor would be thinking of
a warm bosom and kindly feelings, you are all
maundring about bricks and mortar — or names
upon tumble-down tombstones. Fie upon it !
Let *em marry, old gentleman, and there is
pudding enough still in you for to see a brace, or
perhaps three young uns bawling out great-
grandpa into your deaf lug. To cousin Ed«
ward, I say, marry, with or without the good
of the wiU, and trust to God — to you, old
gentleman, let them marry, and give them
all the property when you lose the number
of your mess, and as much as you can spare
before — make them blest, and that's the way
to get God^s blessing yourself. Don^t look
on me in no light — for I am only an inter-
loper — and much more ready to give up all
than I was to take it — always bating the yacht
and the keeping it ship-shape. If I was to
JACK ASHOBE. ]7
8peak for a dog-watch at a spell, I couldn't cay
more to the purpose. No offence, old gentle-
man — I would treat you with just as much
respect, if I saw you begging on a couple of
own crutches at my door.*^
** He means well, dear grandpapa, he does
indeed," said the young lady.
*^Let me see him — ^let him come closer
to me,'' said the old man. '* A comely youth
— ^nay, he is surpassingly handsome — ^a right
proper young man — rough — a little rough —
and he is the eldest — the representative of all
the proud Fortintowers— and the Truepenny
blood in him still stronger than the feudal.
Granddaughter, I see with a light borrowed
from a world beyond this— he is the fitting
man for your husband — a better man, a more
beautiful man than his cousin of the many fine
words. Marry Asfn, daughter— -and not only
my blessing, but the blessing of all your race
now in heaven will descend upon you, and upon
him — ^and upon yours and upon his. I know
Id JACK ASHORB*
it — I see it — I prophesy it — He stands thus
glorious in his youth — daughter, I say, niarry
him — ^the bold bearing, the honest, the sea-
nurtured !"
^* My poor Edward !" was the only and
scarce audible reply of Anne.
*^ Moan not, groan not,*" continued her grand-
father, not hearing the intent of her exclamation.
** Your destiny will be splendidly fulfilled by
this son of the ocean. What lacks he? In
what is he wanting? Place him beside the
other — compare them. Have you no eyes,
Anne Truepenny ? your ancestors look down
upon you for your decision/'
** I have already decided," was the brief
proud answer of Anne, rising up from her
grandfather's side, and placing her hand in
Edward^s.
*^ But that decision must be revoked — he of
the elder branch is the better. Has he not been
generous ?— does his honest rudeness oflend
you ? — in how little a time will that wear
JACK ASHORE. IQ
away I I would not require you to do this
suddenly — but it must be done, for it seems
the bidding of destiny. Take time, and then
give me your answer."
^^ I have but one to give. I cannot be false
— ^it is so much easier to cease to be the heiress
—is it not, my Edward ?'*
But Sir Edward was altogether disconcerted.
The altar he had dedicated to his self-love,
and which he had so scrupulously kept invio-
late, was overthrown at one blow, and its frag-
ments trodden upon with contempt. He
wanted neither for just nor good feelings, but
he could not manfully bear up against anything
approaching to contempt ; and there was no
redress for him, for all the indifference with
which he was regarded by old Mr. True-
penny.
A heavy, fearful gloom, that lasted for a con-
siderable time, now settled upon the conclave.
No one seemed inclined to speak, and the aged
. man closed bis eyes, and it was thought that he
20 JACK A8HOBE.
slept. At length Sir Edward spoke, and
though he began by saying, ** Grentlemen,* his
words were more particularly addressed to Jack.
They did him but little credit. They were at
once querulous and irascible. Without ac-
tually blaming any one, he tried to make it
appear that he had been dreadfully ill-used,
and that the immense sacrifices he had made
were repaid only by adversity, and regarded
with indifference.
«« Cheer up ! cheer up P' said Jack ! « What
ho ! shipmate ; the wind will veer round a
point or two. The old gentleman that is cork-
ing there so snug may think better of it. Per-
haps he expects that I*d take the lady after all
—and so he trusts to time — to time, when the
hour hand of the dial of his life is on the point
of twelve, and he may hear the next chimes in
eternity. As to Miss Anne, I wouldn't have
her, cousin, while she was in love with you, if
all the generations of the two families since
Adam was an oakum boy in Deptford Dock*
JACK ASHORE. 21
yard, had been doing nothing else but making
wills that it should be so. Let somebody drop
that in the old gentleman's lug when he wakes
up. No offence to the lady, for a sweeter crea*
ture the summer breezes never blew upon.
Take her at once, as I ha' said before, and
think yourself the luckiest dog that ever
growled. If it were possible to chop — which it
isn't — ^you might have the two fortunes — always
barring the yacht — ^and Td take the lady in
her O whillaloo! manners!^
Now, had any one else said this, it is very
probable that Mr. Truepenny would not have
heard it ; but Jack, when in earnest, generally
made noise enough* The old gentleman had
never, in his life, been more awake ; he opened
bis eyes, he waved his hand, and said,
** I honour that honest sailor. He has well
reminded me how precious are the few mo-
ments that are still vouchsafed to me. We
must not, we will not, lose time. Answer me,
Edward Fortintower^ and answer me solemnly
22 JACK ASHORE.
-^but first pause before you reply, for the
answer must be final. Will you take this
maiden to wife fortuneless, penniless ? — for, as-
suredly, if she does not marry the sailor, the
will must take efiect.^*
*< Assuredly !** said Mr. Dropandie.
" Mr. Truepenny, Mr. Dropandie^ Miss
Truepenny, before I reply, let me also put
to you all a solemn question," said the agi-
tated Sir Edward. ^< Will you join to set aside
this most iniquitous will ?"
^* O most gladly, my dear Edward," said
the lady.
The gentlemen shook their beads in silence.
<* Then must I reply. In the first places I
denounce these two old men as most unjust^
most wickedly unjust ; on their heads be all
the misery that their fatal obstinacy most
surely will create. I will run all risks. I will
gladly, joyfully, eagerly, marry Miss True-
penny to-morrow—if you wiU only promise to
make an efibrt to annul the wilL Most rap-
JACK ASHORE. 23
tiirously will I risk all chances of the law's
incertitude, and endure most contentedly the
law's delay. But I prize too much the happi-
ness of this dear lady to entail upon her, by an
imprudent marriage — a marriage in which
there would be no hope— the proud wretched-
ness of gentlemanly poverty. Give us but
hope, and I will meet all privations, face all
difficulties ; refuse this, if you will, but your
obduracy shall not make two persons aristocra-
tical beggars for life. That is my answer.
Have you heard it ?'**
It was heard—and but too well. Anne be-
came excessively pale, and she had much diffi-
culty in overcoming her temptation to shriek.
She preserved a deathlike silence. Jack
doubled up his huge hands, and looked marl-
ing-spikes; but his anger as suddenly gave
way, as he muttered, " All's right — Ned's only
trying to gammon the old uns." Mr. Single-
heart looked round upon Sir Edward with
surprise and displeasure in his countenance.
24 JACK ASHORE.
The two old trustees alone seemed unmoved.
Then the eldest of them lifted up his voice and
spake.
** He has been tried in the balance, and
found wanting. But it becomes not me> nor
any who bear our name^ to arraign this joung
man for the love of lucre, or for a sinful devo>
tion to the pomps and vanities of this wicked
world; for have not we^ from generation to
generation, persisted in this wickedness? I am
aweary, and I fain would be at rest. I have
sinned with my race, and at the hands of this
youth have I been reproved. I have lived to
see the last, the most beautiful, and the best of
our house, rejected. Have I lived long enough?
Methinks I have. But this world now interests
me not. It is to me as a room in a roadside
inn. I take no further thought who shall
occupy it after me. I have done with it. I
am about to take my long journey— would
that I could say in peace ! Anne has been re*
jected — I care not— and yet, why does this
JACK ASHORE. 25
heart still flutter — ^rejected? Anne, listen to
the advice of him whose voice will soon be
silent. Cleave unto the sailor youth. He is
the worthier vessel."
»
^* My more than father, I cannot. I have
loved once, and for ever. Edward may break
my heart, but who can make it false ? In my
inmost soul have I married him, and, if I may
not live his wife, I will die his widow."
*^ Then hear my resolution. There stands
nothing between the accomplishment of the will
— of this deed so sacred to our family — ^but
your engagement to this young and worldly-
minded baronet I ask you not to violate your
sense of right, but you and he must pay the
penalty. To you it will be no hardship— you,
Anne, have the solace of a noble heart; but
whilst Sir John remains unmarried — whilst
there is yet a chance of the will^s intention
being worked out in his person — ^I will not con-
sent to its being set aside. If, by the marriage
of Sir John, hope is forbidden, the surviving
VOL* III. c
26 JACK A8UOBB.
trustee will, through God, rule the event — ^for
I shall be away. I b^n to think that this is
as a judgment against us. Let me depart in
peace. I blame no one. Let me in peace
dream on, for the little while that I have to
live. All of you, the upright and the waver-
ings take the blessing of one who has numbered
more than a hundred years — take it, and may
it fructify upon you all unto good ! God bless
you ! and now departr-~all, save this drooping
scion of our family — ^she shall stay with me for
a space — as yet, she must not forget that she
has been rejected.*
Having thus spoken, the old gentleman closed
his eyes, and fell into an unquiet slumber.
And, save Anne, they all departed ; but they
went not as they came. Sir Edward, with
much politeness, refused a seat in Jack^s car-
riage, and taking the arm of Mr. Singlebcart,
walked to his lodgings. For the first time^ our
hero felt himself alone, as he sate in his fashion-
able vehicle; a sense even of desertion came
ja<;k ashors. S7
Direr him* When be arrived at Gaveiidisb
Square, be found several of his maslera waiting
for binu He felt bugely inclined to kick tbem
out of tbe bouse. He dismissed them, bow-
ever, politely enough, and intimated to tbem,
that, for some time, be should have no further
need of their services. He walked up and
down his stately apartments — ^he summoned his
amanuensis— be attempted to converse witli him.
All this would not da Jack was restless
and comfortless — he took up his fiddle — still
tbe scene that be bad just witnessed spoiled
every attempt he made to extract harmony
.from the instrument, or to restore it to him-
self. He had marked tbe checquers on the
door-posts of several public-bouses as he passed
through the streets in bis carriage, and be had
6gured to himself a dark back parlour, a quiet
pipe, and cold grog. There was much in the
picture consolatory to bim^ but be manfully
resisted bis desire to realise it*
Thoi^b be had, as yet, lived in perfect seclu-
c 2
36 JACK ASHOBE.
sioD} in coofomiity with the advice of bis ohinoi
in order to habituate himself to the forms of his
new ruode of life, he had always dined in state»
three courses being served up to him with as much
ceremony as if he had his salle a manger full of
guests. His dessert followed, and then his
long lesson of accustoming himself to claret
All this sometimes amus^, sometimesannojed
him ; but, for the sake of Sir Edward, whether
amused or annoyed, he went through it with the
same regularity. But to-day this monkish repast
seemed to offer nothing but what was disagree-
able to him. He rang for his steward, inti-
mated that he was going out of town, and
ordered four horses to his chariot.
In his excellently conducted menage every-
thing was performed promptly and in silence.
*^ To Greenwich," said Jack ; and in less than
half an hour he found himself there. '* Home,"
and the empty chariot disappeared.
This was almost his first decided act of mas-
tership. It gave him the sensation of pleasure;
JACK ASHOBfi. 29
but this sensation was not sufficiently strong to
relieve bis mind from mucb oppression. He was
soon on board of his yacht, his civilian's dress
exchanged for a blue jacket and trimmings to
match, and the Anne under weigh, and making
for the Nore.
Afloat, Jack was determined to do as he
liked, so there was no scarcity either of tobacco
or grog: and when he found himself comfort-*
ably settled in the cabin with Giles Grimm«
he confided to him all his troubles and his
anxieties.
" I envy you, father. My life has lately
been a drudgery to me. My masters have
only taught me that I am as great a child as i»
every mother^s son of them, out of his own
station bill. Each master is a fool in every*
thing else but in what he teaches ; and I am a
fool to each of them in turn. I shall get the
better of them yet, if I donH take some damna-
ble yaw. At times, I feel there is something
good in me — I don't mean as a sailor, daddy,
do JACK ASUOKE.
but ID their own flighty way. I acquire words
that appear to me as so many keys to unlock
my understanding, and my heart with it ; and
whilst my master of elocution, and my master
of grammar, and the rest of that boat's crew,
flatter themselves I am learning their rubbish,
I am learning something better— learning to
think, and to give my thoughts words. But I
can^t keep it up, father — L can't. It comes and
goes like flaws of wind in the calm latitudes ;
and, in the veering of a dogvane, I am ofl^ my
stilts, and at home again in my nautical lower-
deck lingo. But now open the hatches of your
understanding, and hand me up some good
counsel from your best store-room.*'
Jack then detailed the position of the various
persons of his family, and dilated, in his own
manner, on the memorable interview that
seemed to promise so many important results.
Giles heard all in profound silence, and then
confessed himself at a nonplus. Accordin^y he
went on deck to see how the cutter's head was.
JACK ASHORE* SI
had all the sails trimmed afresh« and then came
below again, and told Jack that he must read a
few chapters in the Bible first, and that then he
would give him his answer. Our hpro saw no
objection to this; but either the advice was
not agreeable, or it was a long while in getting
into existence, for the yacht made a bold dash
into the Atlantic, and it was just ten days be-
fore she was again snugly at her moorings
in Greenwich reach, and the advice still to be
given.
In the mean time, whilst no one of his
friends in London knew what had become of
him, his recognizances had been forfeited ; for
he could not very well appear to give his evi-
dence against his Poll, whilst she was before
the judge and jury at , and he was some
hundred miles off on the wide ocean. Unfortu-
nately for the lady, the proof of her crime was
quite sunicient, without Jack's evidence to in-
sure her condemnation. She was sentenced to
be hung, but the punishment was commuted to
transportation for life. Her former lover had
92 JACK A8H0BB.
left poutive injunctions widi his lawyer to do
all that ooald be done for her in her deplorable
situation — and it was done. She left the coun-
try for ever. It was not till some tinie after
that Jacic learned all this.
During Jaclc's absence, Sir Edward had
been anything but happy. Anne would not and
could not see him, but as her future husband ;
whilst he« in the mean time, behaved so myste*
riously, as respected the fulfilment or non-fulfil-
ment of his engagement to her, that even his
tried friend and constant ad viser, M r. Siugleheart,
did not understand him on this subject. He had
several times called upon Sir John, and left or*
ders to be made acquainted with the fact the
moment his cousin arrived. This arrival took
place so late at night, that it was not till the
next morning that Sir Edward was announced
He looked much discomposed» and his manner
was cold and estranged.
Now, Jack had so far become habituated
to his new situation, as to have a little iden-
tified himself with his rank and advantages;
JACK A8BQRK. 38
and he was neither 8o bumble in bis deporU
ment, nor so deferential to his couan^'s opi-
nionsi as formerly. Yet be was still aa frank^
and as pleased to see Sir Edward, as that
gentleman's manner permitted. Jack had
already discovered that bis cousin was rather
addicted to a set speech, so he merely nodded
assent at the right and the wrong places, whilst
bis cousin finished a long harangue thus :—
*^ Sir John, you must confess— all the world
must confess — ^that I have done by you a rela-
tion's, a Christian^ and a gentleman^s duty.
Tbis duty has proved all but my ruin. Yet,
Sir John, I repine not — but I owe also a duty
to myself-'—that of making my lamentable posi-
tion as little detrimental to me as possible. I have
played the magnanimous, and I have paid for
it ; I have avowed myself your friend, and I
have proved so — and sb, I hope, I shall ever
prove. But circumstances, Sir John, will pre^
vent, henceforward, my enjoying so much, or
even at all, your society. The worst of mo-
c 6
St JACK A6H0&8.
tires have been ftuigiied to the ¥Cfy ndtttary
influence that I have exerdfled over you.
Read that. Sir John-— and that—and that,--"
haadiog over to him several papers filled with
scurrilous innuendosi as to the motives of Sir
Edward in keeping his cousin in tutekgeu
** You know, Sir John, that but little re-
mains to me but mj good name. I don't re-
proach you for this, but I must look out for
myself. I will give you a few words of partmg
advice^ and then take leave oi you for some
time. Your pecuniary afiESurs cannot be in
better hands than those of Mr. Singlebeart
On that head, you need have neitber appre-
hension, trouble, nor anxiety. I would reeom*
mend you to persevere in the course of studies
that you are now pursuing. It has already
much advantaged you. I would have you no
longer remain in retirement Go into company.
Attend to what I am now going to sayy as you
would to the oracles of fate» Drink not— smoke
not — game not. Give me your word of honour
JACK A8H0AE* ' 36
never to Idee more than five pounds in the
twenty-four hours.''
Jack gave this pledge solemnly.
^* I have brought you an invitation to Mrs.
Cackletop^s party for to-night. It will be a
good entrance for you into general society.
Luckily, there are not many persons in town.
As, in some measure, you have been under my
tuition, I shall be most anxious that yon make
«
a favourable dffmi. I shall not be there py-
sdf — I should be too nervous to witness it-*!
will give you a few general instructions. Always
wear your gloves — I think that your hands
grow coarser than ever."
He did not know that Jack had been bousing
away at the main and jib sheets, and at every
rope that required along and a strong pull, for
the last ten days, on board the yacht*
^* Don't speak much, and when you have
nothing to say to the purpose, you may smile
to show your teeth, or pick them. It is a nasty
trick that last— but just now very much the
86 JACK ASHOBK.
fashion. You have very beautiful legs^ and
more the foot of a lady of quality than of a
man. Sit constantly in your chair, crossed*
legged, something in this way, and from time
to time fondle and pat your calf thus. You
see what little need you will have for conver-
sation. Whai you must converse — and con*
verse the silly men and women will make you —
avoid all allusion to your former life, and shun
sea phrases as you would a leper. Oh, it is a
very bad vice that has possessed you ; as, for
example, should you be inclined to speak of
anything long — say not, according to your
dreadful custom, that it is as long as the main*
top-bowling — for who. Sir John, knows or cares
what is a maintop-bowling P^
*^ True, cousin Edward ; the ignorance and
carelessness of long-shore gents are deplorable/
<^ But say it is as long, as long, as long— as
a--a ^
" Tiresome speech."
^* Yes, that would do ; but it would not do
JACK ASHORE. 97
if 8 person were boring you. Everj one has not
Che talent of conversing agreeably : you will
find that soon enough/'
** I have found it already, cousin."
^ But when you do find it, you must not tell
them so ; it would deeply offend them. But
you may indulge in a little quiet irony at their
expense. These prosy folks are generally too
dull, and too much taken up with themselves,
to see through a joke.*'
<< I fully understand that.''
** But, above all other things, the one thing
paramount, and the one thing needful, is never
to seem astonished. Surprise and a man of
fashion are incompatible. Treat everything
with supreme indifference. You are too elevated
to let the casualties of life have any the least
effect upon you* Undervalue everything. If
a person tells you anything, look as if you had
heard it before. If one says something really
witty, though I confess the chance is very
small, pass it off contemptuously, with a sort
38 JACK ABHoms*
of a couUUif-I-wouUi air. It is too modi
trouble for a man . of rank and fiartune to be
clever, or even sensible. Never argue. Argu*
ment must lead to the idea of some intellectual
effort— some labour of the mind ; and everjrthing
that baa any aflSnity to labour is utterly beneatb
the notice of a gentleman."
^^ D n it, cousin ; and here have I been
toiling fourteen hours a day, like an ass with
double hampers, and I might have been a first-
rate gentleman, and. have done all this, and
still have been the greatest dunce and idiot
that ever sucked his thumb.''
** Pardon me. Sir John ; you have already
the reputation, I can tell yoo, of having had
these masters* That is an university man-^
that elegant Lord Landidand. Does he un*
derstand Greek or Latin? Not a word at
either. Mathematics?— he could not define to
you the properties of a straight line so well as
the washerwoman who uses one to hang her
linen upon. Any boy at the next charity-
JACK ABUOBS. 39
aehool can beat him at EngUab oompontion,
and bis knowledge of numbere is hardly suffi-
cient to enable him to find his own door by the
digits inscribed upon it. Still, mj Lord Landi*
dand is a man of learning by courtesy, as he
is a lawmaker by nativity. He has the repu-
tation of an university education, and you, that
of a host of private masters. You know what
you both are/'
'< Come, come. Sir Edward, if I can't make
a better man of fashion than this stick of a
lord, I'll go and be captain of the forecastle
again ; but, however, I thank you for your ad-
vice. Is that all ?""
'* Yes. Go, and be as impudent as the affec-
tation of indifference will permit you. Bully
the men with the coolness of polished contempt,
and wheedle the women into a belief that they
require nothing but the loss of every virtue to
be goddesses ; and it is not unlikely that you
may yourself become, one day, the leader of
40 JACK ASHORE.
fashion. May the Graces assist you— you stand
in need of them.'"
Sir Edward departed, and Jack whistled
him all down stairs, and birly out of the house,
to the tune of ** The Rogue's March.**
JACK ASHOftb 41
CHAPTER II.
Jack, a secoDd time, triM his hand at letter^writing— -Succeeda
— His cousin grows jeslons, which ia bad, and shows it,
which is worse^Jsck is taught how to behave in society^
Visits, and behaves intolerably, but finally whistles him-
self into general favour, and leaves with a love afiair and
two duels upon his hands."
Sir John T&uefknny returned into his draw-
ing-room, with Mrs. Cackletop^s invitation in
his hand. For some time he stood musing in
a deep melancholy. He was sensibly grieved
at the changed manners of Sir Edward, and
rather alarmed at the sense of desertion and of
loneliness that stole over him. Now, he also
felt a little angry : for he had always been, and
4^ JACK ASHORE.
Still was, willing to resign everything in the
favour of his cousin, and in every way wished
to promote his happiness and to study his in-
terests. He already felt himself ill-treated, and
then he began to judge Sir Edward's conduct
rather too severely.
Under the influence of these feelings, he
sat down to write his first note to a lady. As
yet, from natural modesty, he had never been
able to bring himself to use his own title. His
note, tolerably spelled, and not badly though
stiffly written, ran thus : —
" CaTendish Square, this morning.
^' John Truepenny sends his humble duty to
Miss of that name" (for he remembered that his
master in English composition bad forbidden
him to make repetitions,) ** and begs, as a great
favour, that Miss ditto will teU him, in con-
fidence, if Sir Edward Fortintower is in right
down earnest in cutting and running ; that is
to say, in breaking faith with ,you, and if you
JACK ASHORE. 4>d
are to wear the willow. I hope that you will
pardon all mistakes, as I could not trust my
man-you-hen-sees in inditing this. So no
more from your humble servant to command,
" John Truepenny."
If the gracious and tolerant reader will com-
pare this effusion with the former letter that
Jack sent to Sir Edward, he will see that in-
struction had not been thrown away upon him.
The only word in his last, that he had spelt in the
same way that he played the fiddle, that is, by
ear, was one that he had never seen written.
At this period there was much hope for Jack.
This note was conveyed to Anne Truepenny
with all fitting ceremony i and the footman
speedily brought him the following answer
from the lady : —
«f
Harley Street, this morning.
^^ Anne Truepenny sends her best wishes to
the baronet of th|it name, and begs, as a great
44 JACK ASHOBE.
favour of the baronet of ditto, not to judge of
Sir Edward harshly, as the latter has cut» but
not run, and Miss ditto is very well content to
wear the willow for the time, as she thinks it a
very becoming ornament. Miss ditto also
begs to observe, that the absence of one baronet
ought not to preclude the presence of another,
so you may come and see me as soon as you
like ; and so no more from your humble servant
to command,
" Akke Teuepenny."
Upon this little document Jack cogitated
deeply. Extremely unwilling was his honest
heart to admit any sentiment of disparagement
towards his cousin. He remembered the mag-
nanimity of the sacrifice he had made in his
favour, and all his subsequent kindness. Per-
haps, after all, Sir Edward was right Then
he was struck the more forcibly that he was
the stumbling-block — ^the pit dug in the path
of both his benefactor and the gentle and
JACK ASHORR. 4^
accomplished Anne. He then resolved to take
Giles Grimm^s advice^ and marry. Whom ?
His judgment and his gratitude pronounced
loudly the name of Susan Snowdrop, but his
heart would not yet answer to the summons*
So Jack determined to go into all the society
to which he was accessible, and choose for him-
self.
In an establishment so complete as was Sir
John Truepenny's, there was no danger that
there should be any deficiency in the sailor
baronet's outward appearance. That night,
when he repaired to Mrs. Cackletop% he was
not only fashionably but faultlessly dressed.
As the sea-lion was expected, every one who
bad presence of mind enough to confess that
she or he was in town in October, crowded the
lady's room. They expected to see some
monster — some blustering, swearing, rude tar-
paulin. Sir John Truepenny was announced.
Every one started, and suddenly the hum of
many voices ceased. The door opened ; and a
46 JACK ASHORE.
gentleman, with a countenance almost effemi-
nately beautiful, of a tall and majestic pre-
sence, and attired with all the r^herchc ele-
gance of a courtly nobleman, entered the room.
The hostess had advanced some steps to meet
him, but seeing herself before something so un-
expectedly imposing, she stopped short, hesi-
tated, and curtseying with a great deal of
deference to the distinguished unknown, said —
*• May I crave the honour of your title ? — I^ex-
pected a certain Sir John Truepenny — I thought
that was the name announced. Some mistake,
no doubt*'
Now, Jack was brimful of his lesson of cool
indifference and impudent apathy. So, with a
supercilious smile, and lisping out hi^ words
slowly, he replied, " Better — ^go — ^and — see ;*'
and then taking no more notice of the hostess,
he dawdled listlessly to the upper end of the
room, seated himself between two of the hand-
somest ladies present, crossed one leg over the
other, and, in obedience to his cousin's instruo-
JACK ASHORC. 47
tions, began to fondle his very handsome and
muscular calf*
In the mean time the lady had ascertained
that her guest was the actual Sir John expected ;
and when the rest of the company had pro-
nounced the stranger decidedly elegant, and
perfectly accustomed to the best society, she
accosted him by extending her hand, and say-
ing, in an emphatically loud tone, ** Sir John
Truepenny, I am most happy to make your ac-
quaintance.^'
Sir John neither rose nor noticed the offered
hand. He simply contented himself by affect-
ing to yawn, and saying, *' I've heard as
much,"
Every one stared, the lady became confused,
and was much mortified. This looked almost
insulting ; and yet, to believe so handsome and
so well-dressed a person could be rude, was
difficult — very difficult. She rallied, and said,
** She did not doubt it ; he had heard bnly the
truth. Every one would be desirous of making
48 JACK A8HOEE.
the acquaintance of a gentleman so distin-
guished, not only by the romantic story of his
former life, but by his elegant person and man*
ners* She was privileged to say this, and, at
the risk of being thought singular, would say
it even to his face."
** Well, madam, thafs cool; I would return
the compliment if I could : in the mean time,
I am, madam, your most obedient, and — ^very —
humble servant. Don^t you think, miss?'* (turn-
ing to the lady at his side) — ^ ah ! ah ! that
is to say, if you are a miss.**
The lady bowed, and smiled graciously.
" That is to say — ^ah — that I have quite for-
gotten what I was going to say I Oh, Mistress
Cackletop, you were speaking.** So taking
out his tooth-pick deliberately, he began to
pick his teeth in the most approved style. ** Go
on — I am at leisure.^
** Well, in these hard times it is something
to be listened to,^ said the lady, good-humour-
edly. ** Will you have some music. Sir
John r
JACK A8HOBK. 49
*' Why, yes, if it is good — ^not else.'*
" Sir John Truepenny," said a young fop,
^' in this mansion you will hear nothing but
what is good.**
** And you allowed to prate ! Boh ! who
spoke to you ?** " Bully the men," thought
Jack ; " now 111 begin.''
** I must impute this language, Sir John
Truepenny *^
** Hark ye, younker,'' said Jack, starting up,
and looking quite fierce enough for the lion of
that or of any other party — '* 111 have no im-
puting in this respectable company. How do
you dare, sirrah, to go about to be imputing?
You may dispute if you like ; but then it shall
not be with me. Impute ! you unconscionable
young sinner ! if you dare to impute "
" What then. Sir John ?" said the young
gentleman, turning a little pale.
** ril kick you down stairs — you are just the
build for it.'*
Here the men began to interfere and bluster,
VOL. III.
60 JACK ASHORE*
and the women to be prettily fearful, whilst
Jack reseated himself^ and by his self-satisfied
and complacent smile seemed heartily to enjoy
the hubbub he had created*
The affronted young gentlemen, a Mr. Daw-
son, left the room, but, on leaving it, he left his
friend behind, and his card ; which friend left
his card with Jack, requesting Jack^s permission
to call upon him early to-morrow morning.
Jack, affecting to misunderstand him, was gra-
ciously pleased to grant his request, if he would
promise to behave himself and not peep down
the area, for he would have no poaching on his
manor.
Either from the eccentricity of the speech,
or from the known character of Captain Brew
for menial gallantry, which made Jack's ran-
dom shot tell, all the ladies began to titter.
This threw the man military into a most pas-
sionate and militant humour. With many
oaths, he said noble things about honour, death,
and, we are sorry to add, about damnation.
^' Pooh, pooh r said Jack ; *' keep yourself
4<
«C
JACK ASHORE. 51
cool— easy — easy — now there — the man's vexed ;
— ^look at me— calm, sir, calm — a pretty cap-
tain, and can't command himself — quarrels be-
fore ladies — la — la ! O fie ! what would the
good woman, your aunt, say P^
By G — d, this is intolerable. '^
DonH boil up so, little man. I would
advise you to get a tooth-pick, if you had any
teeth. Men never swear while they use one."
" To be overhauled thus — to be run down
by such a sea-brute.*'
** Shockingly vulgar, Captain Brew — too
vulgar for me to associate with. Ladies, the
low-bred man makes use of sea terms. Beneath
my notice.^
** The company alone prevents my inflicting
personal chastisement on you, monster P
^* Has he no old nurse to take care of him ?'*
said Jack, with an easy contempt.
Captain Brew bowed in silence to the hostess,
and had nearly reached the door, when Sir
John strode after him, and seizing him by the
o 2
52 JACK A8HOBB.
arm, with a gripe that made him wince, he led
him to a corner of the room, and said, ^ I per-
fectly understand what you and your friend
mean. I donH think him much better than an
impertinent puppy, and you a detestable make-
bate. Arrange time, place, and tools ; let me
know early to-morrow morning, and 1*11 attend
to you both, for my quarrel is with both. I
shall inquire your character to-night, and deal
with you accordingly. Be off."
*^ Atrocious blackguard ! youMl repent this,"
said the captain as he departed, pale with rage.
Jack returned to his seat, with the most
vapid and unconcerned air possible. As he
passed along, a huge proud-looking man eyed
him attentively through his glass. Jack thought
this to be an impertinence, so he intentionally
trod as heavily as he could on his foot. The
sufferer drew up his leg with the contortions
of agony on his countenance. Jack stared at
him with the vacant look of unconscious inno-
cence.
JACK ASHORE. 53
" Damn it, sir ! — do you know you have trod
on my toes P'*
'^ Bless me ! did I ? you had better pack
them up small, and put them in your waistcoat
pocket"
" Insufferable ! Why, sir, did you tread
upon my toes ?"
" Come, now, that's good. Why did you
thrust your dirty bits of gristle under my heel ?
The oppression and wanton cruelty one meets
with in good' society is dreadful — too much for
my delicate nerves — I must repose.'*
" My cloth is your protection, sir.**
** Damned badly protected I should be, if I
depended on it"
Having regained his seat, he was informed
by a communicative lady that he had just
offended the Bishop of .
The music began, and an elaborate concerto
piece was played by some foreign musicians,
during which Sir John yawned prodigiously.
When it was over, Mrs, Cackletop asked him
if he had been amused.
54 JACK ASHOBK.
" Not in the least.'*
*' But you told me you were fond of music '*'
" I am— if good."
" Was not that piece good ?*^
" If the music had been played — ^it wasn't
played at all — only spoiled."
With a contemptuous air the lady said,
^' Perhaps you know how it should have been
played."
« Certainly."
" Will you show us how ?" said she, taunt-
ingly.
" If you like."
'* Nothing could be a greater favour."
^^ This is the way the air should have been
given," said Jack, and he then whistled the piece
all through. The company were taken by sur-
prise; they were enchanted ; they gathered round
him ; they held their breaths ; no other sound
was heard until he had finished, and then the
applause was rapturous. No one had ever
conceived that the compressed lips could prove
JACK ASHORE. 55
an iDstrument of music so complete and so
powerful. It was a natural gift that Jack
possessed} and in the excellence of which he
had never been surpassed.
Jack received all the compliments and the
encomiums which were heaped upon him, with
the air of one excessively wearied. Already
he had risen immeasurably in the estimation
of every one ; even the bishop forgot his
crushed toes, smiled upon him, and told him
that he was a gifted individual. Had Jack
discoursed to that company with the wis*
dom of a Bacon, the piety of a Fenelon, or
the inspiration of a Shakspeare, he would not
have gained a tithe of the consideration that he
had procured by a whistle. He had become at
once an established lion.
Sir John was now the focus of all attraction,
and he fooled the company and himself to the
utmost. He was sharp and bullying ; ineffably
conceited and indifferent by turns to the men,
and either insolent or extravagant to the
women. Everything now was well taken.
56 JACK ASHOUB.
When his words conveyed a single idea, his
auditors fancied there were at least ten; and
when none at all, they puzzled themselves to
discover something wonderful and abstruse.
Jack knew his value, and no persuasions
could induce him to whistle again, though they
fell from very beautiful lips, and were conveyed
in very musical words. Mrs. Cackletop petted
him outrageously. If he opened his mouth,
only to " roar ye, as gently as a sucking dove,"
she held up her cautionary fan to the inatten-
tive, and commanded silence. Eleven very
promising young men had come to the conclu-
sion that Jack would be the vogue, and they
studied him with more assiduity than they ever
did their lessons. They might all be seen
picking their teeth at one time, and sitting,
like Jack, cross-legged at another — feeling in
vain for calves that were not.
Incidentally, Sir John gathered from various
inquiries the character of Captain Brew. He
was one of those animals of prey that roam
JACK A8H0BE. 57
about town, a gambler and a man of honour ;
having no property, and faring sumptuously
every day; received in the best of societys
though he would have disgraced the worst ; a
successful fighter of duels himself, and a pro*
moter of them in others : a very common
character in all luxurious societies. Pro-
vidence has ordained that every animal should
be the prey to some other ; and where fools
abound, there will sharpers be found plentiful.
But still Captain Brew was one of a high order.
He really was well born, still held his com-
mission in the army, and had served with
bravery, and earned for himself military dis-
tinction. He was a bold bad man. Jack
learned enough not to be very scrupulous on
his account.
Just as the party were about to descend to
the supper-table, a little incident occurred that
had a marked, nay, a controlling effect upon
Sir John's future fortunes. A very pretty
prattler, with a very active female tongue,
D 6
68 JACK ASHORE.
asked him how he bad been amused by the
party.
" Bored — ^bored — wearied to death .^
'< Then why did you come at all ? Am I not
worthy an answer ? had you any purpose at all
in coming ?**
*^ YeSy I bad, miss," said Jack, in his natural
and abrupt manner.
^* For heaven's sake let me know it ! How
you have altered ! What was it, Sir John 1"
^< I came to lose myself, and find a wife.*^
There was a titter from every expectant
within hearing, and every unmarried lady was
expectant. But one peculiarly infantine laugh
Jock fancied he had heard before.
" Truly, soberly, seriously, are you in ear-
nest ?"
" Truly, soberly, seriously, I am in ear-
nest."
" Well, then, you have only to look round."
'^ O whistle and 111 come to you my
lad !" softly sang a very sweet voice, and
JACK A8HORK. 59 ~
which proceeded from some one who was con-
cealed by a group of the ladies that, since his
display, had not ceased to stand round Sir
John. Jack whistled the bar of *^ Will you
have a jolly sailor !^* when a giggle was heard,
and, for a moment, the Hebe and simple coun-
tenance of Miss Scrivener was thrust between
the two haggard countenances of two maidens
well advanced in ye^s, and then instantly
withdrawn. Shortly afterwards, all conscious
and blushing, she was seated by Sir John, and
he led her to the supper-table.
60 JACK A8HORK.
CHAPTER III.
Jaek*8 doable duel, and his angular prepaimtiona — Beata both
bis adversaries, snd oomea off with fljing edloiin — Jack's
school of fencing prored to be the best — He makea rarioas
friends, who make themselrea rery free, particalarly at Jack s
expense.
Notwithstanding Mr. Scrivener's unsuc-
cessful journey to Portsmouth — unsuccessful
so far as to the attainment of the principal
object he had in view ; notwithstanding his
unrepaid outlay for €ags and bands ; notwith*
standing that his bill of costs was rigidly taxed ;
— ^yet he had contrived to pay all his expenses,
and to put what hec ailed a pretty surplus penny
in his pocket. Though thus partially defeated.
JACK ASHOBE. 61
he never despaired. He looked upon our hero
as his predestined prey, and on this subject no
Turk was ever stronger in his belief of predes-
tination. Consequently, he never lost sight
of him. He informed himself of all his mo*
tions, and, in spite of many repulses, he was
determined to force upon him his acquaintance,
and, if possible, to extort from him his con-
fidence.
The principal engine to effect this was a
delicate and beautiful one — his fair and simple
daughter, Eugenia Elfrida. It was to Mr.
Scrivener that Sir Edward was indebted for
those soul-touching insinuations that had ap-
peared in the public papers. These, with the
turn of events, had decided the conduct of that
cautious gentleman. No sooner had Mr. Scri-
vener been informed that Jack was to make
his first appearance in society, than, at an
hour's notice^ he had contrived to procure an
invitation for himself and daughter; and, in
order the better to observe our hero's conduct.
62 JACK ASHORE.
and shape his course accordingly) he had kept
her and himself out of his sight until what
he deemed the proper moment for appear-
ance.
We have nothing more to record of this
eventful evening than the last part of the dia-
logue between him and Miss Scrivener, which
took place after supper and much cham*
pagne.
^* One kiss, Hugee — only one kiss for poor
Jack***
*' La, now ! for shame ; how can you be so.
Sir John ?-
** 141 be anything, pretty, precious Hugee —
only one little tiny one.''
«< You sailors do get on so. You would not
have me kiss you in all this bustle, you
naughty man, you. I wouldn't for a ship-load
of gold *
*' Only now give me a squeeze with your
delicate little flipper — ^your hand noW| pretty
one — as an earnest you will give me the other
JACK ASHORE. 63
the first opportunity. Strike me comfortable if
I dcm't love you dearly.**
'* Well, then, I will now, Sir John, if you
wonH think ill of me^-on one condition."
'* O you angel, I adore conditions and you
too— only name it"
^* Dear, dear Sir John, only just go up to
papa, and shake hands with him. Won^t you,
now?"
Jack looked at Mr. Scrivener, who was
looking at both of them from a convenient
distance^ and whistled the three first notes of
the old tune ; and then he turned his eyes upon
the beaming, beautiful countenance of Eugenia,
and was conquered. He walked up to Mr.
Scrivener, took hold of his too willing hand,
and shaking it, exclaimed, ** How are ye^ law-
yer, how are ye ?"
Mr. Scrivener bad gained his point, and all
his wishes now seemed easily attainable.
Sir John was assiduous in seeing the young
lady to her father's carriage ; and, amidst the
noise and confusion of many departures, there
64 JACK A8HOHE.
was distinctly heard a reverberating smack,
that the dreamy watchman in the next street
mistook for the springing of his rattle by a
brother dreamer. The conscious *^ La, you
there now P of Miss Scrivener, gave an explana-
tion to the noise, that was exceedingly pleasing
to her father.
That gentleman did not immediately drive
home, but repaired first to Bow-street ; and,
much to his mortification, he found the
office closed. He had now a watchful, even
a parental care for Sir John ; and he did not
intend that his throat should be cut, at least
for the present. He considered [that he had
an undoubted right to the first bleeding.
Jack went to rest in a delirium of tumultuous
feelings, for the most part triumphant and
pleasurable. As he sank to rest among heaps
of the softest down, he forgot the forecastle of
the " Old Glory,** and no longer envied Giles
Grimm the command of his yacht.
At six in the morning he was awoke from a
very blissful dream of champagne. Miss Scri-
»ACK ASHOBE. 65
vener, and a romp in the fields near Portseat to
an invitation to small swords^ and a little choice
carving at the human frame divine.
Jack got up grumbling and swearing, on ^hat
cold foggy October morning. He well under-
stood that in this step he must bear himself not
only manfully, but with those attentions to
etiquette that his present station, and the new
character with which he wished to invest him-
self, demanded. He found in the drawing-
room a gaunt warrior-looking man, that grinned
a ferocious satisfaction, and evinced a grim
delight in the office he came to fulfil. It was
to measure swords, and to fix the place and
time of meeting.
At that period duels were rarely fought
with pistols, and small swords were looked
upon as a necessary appendage to the dress
of a gentleman. It so happened that Jack's
sword was about an inch shorter than those
of his two antagonists; but this advantage
he willingly waived ; and then the belligerent
66 JACK ASHORE^
amboBsador haTing mtimatedi and very accu-
rately described, a certain field at the back of
Islington churchy and the hour eight, with much
formality he took his leave.
Sir John Truepenny called to him his ama-
nuensisy with whom he took counsel. He had
become much attached to this youth; and, it
was only out of regard to the advice of Sir
Edward, that he had not already admitted him
to the familiarity of friendship. It was need*
ful that our hero should have a second, but,
from the state of seclusion in which he had
been immured, there was no one with whom he
could take the liberty of requesting his attend-
ance. The office of second was not, at that
time, one of so little personal danger as it is
at present. Upon the most frivolous pretences,
the seconds would themselves engage; these
pretences they would seek for, and create ; and
even if the principals were rather slow at their
tierce and quarte, or the weather was too cold
to make idly standing agreeable, or even the
JACK ASHOBE. 67
canine propensity to pugnacity — each of these
was often a sufficient motive for extracting the
steel, and making a few passes at each other,
merely pour passer le temps.
Now, Sir John would not expose his cousin
to all these risks, which were fully displayed to
him by Mr. Hawkins ; and he knew enough of
the character of his lawyer not to invite him to
a breakfast in which the powers of digestion
would very probably be tried upon cold iron.
His amanuensis would most willingly have
offered himself, but for two reasons : — ^in the
first place, he could not fence; and, in the
next, though he knew what ought to be done
on the field, from inexperience he did not know
how to do it* At length, this gentleman re^
membered an old, half-pay, fire-eating lieute-
nant of marines, who, being disabled in the
arm, and wanting a leg, could not be invited
himself into the afiray. He was immediately
brought — introductions passed rapidly — and
(i8 JACK ASHOKB.
the offer to attend Sir John to the field was
eagerly accepted.
The preparations were soon effected, and
short as was the time they occupied, it was suf-
ficient for the planting, the growth, and the
maturity of a sudden friendship between them.
They proceeded in Sir John's carriage to
Islington, and, during the drive, much was the
excellent advice that he received from bis
second. Jack listened to it with admirable
sangfroid^ and quite astonished his friend when
he toid him that he had not made his will.
** Well,* said the marine oflScer, ** I shall
take every care that, on the first blood that is
drawn from you, I shall interfere ; and if the
first gentleman does but scratch you, the other
shall not even draw his sword. Sir John True-
penny, I must take care of your valuable
Kfe.*
Sir John was much obliged.
*^ But," continued his friend, ^* have you no
JACK A8H0RE. 69
message to deliver — ^no letter to send, in case of
accident ? for, really, this Captain Brew is ugly
at his small sword, and a very mischievous
man. It would not become me to tell you how
many he has killed, and how many more
wounded. Not that I believe one quarter that
is said— but the fellow has a reputation, which
makes him very bold in the field.**
** I tell you what it is, friend Lieutenant
Franks of the royal marines — *^
*' Captain, if you please, Sir John ; though I
am, strictly speaking, but a lieutenant. I have
been invalided upon the half-pay of a captain,
and gentlemen, in courtesy, generally allow me
the rank."
^^ I am sure that I will call you colonel, or
even general, if that will give you any pleasure
— for I don't doubt you would be one or the
other, if you had your proper rating. How-
ever, we must not grumble, ; for though I
served his majesty near upon twenty years,
like yourself, they only made me a captain.**
70 JACK ASHORE.
** Indeed, Sir John ! — ^hum — hah ! I did
hear an awkward story that you were before
the mast. You were last on board of the
Glory, if I mistake not 7*
" You are quite right — ^you lay your course
exactly."
** And was not Captain Firebrass, an old
shipmate of mine^ the captain ?^
" Yes, ye»— but you marines are so dull.
He was captain of all the ship, whilst I merely
relieved him from the care of the forecastle — I
was captain ^ there — but didn't trouble myself
with mounting the swabs — left them in the
head. I hope you are not ashamed of me
now. Captain Franks."*
*' Not a bit. You were bom a gentleman,
and, whilst you bore yourself honestly, in any
capacity however humble, you were the gen-
tleman still. But here we are^ and no doctor,
I declare."
<^ Never mind,^' said Jack ; '* perhaps there's
one among the enemy, for there seems enough
JACK ASHORE. 71
of them — if not, why a sword-wound, if it is
home to the vitals, no surgeon can help ye;
and if it is not, why, I am too old a man-of*
war^s man not to know how to make a toumi*
quet with a handkerchief. Now, Captain
Franks, I must come it grand, and drop the
forecastle."
This short conversation, and something more
to the same effect, took place in their walk
from Islington to the meadow. It was well
selected for the little ceremony, being retired,
and surrounded by a high hedge, well stocked
with trees, now rich in their autumnal foliage.
Captain Brew had invited several of his friends
to be present, as if by accident, promising them
some fun, and assuring them of his magna'-
nimity, inasmuch as he intended only to pink
or disarm the ignorant sailor. The young gen*
tleman, Mr. Dawson, did not find it so plea-
sant a joke. He looked, though pale, calm
and collected, but certainly not eager for
the fray.
72 JACK ASHOBE.
When those assembled saw the uapolished*
yet bold and noble bearing of Jack» some
thought it pity that so fine a man should be
pricked to death) and his handsome body made
a pincushion for the wary old fencer to dib in
** his passes of practice ;" whilst others thought
that the latter would not find the pastime
either easy or pleasant
Captain Franks having duly given in his
credentials^ and put in Sir John's waver of right
as to equality in the length of the swords, they
prepared for mischief, by the principals strip*
ping themselves to their shirts, as respected
their upper garments. Both Captain Brew
and Mr. Dawson adjusted themselves for the
combat, when the captain stepped forward, and
demanded the first essay. Now, this was done
for a valuable consideration from Mr. Dawson ;
and it was with dismay that the latter heard
Jack demand him for his first opponent.
Hereupon a great deal of blustering and
argument ensued, not only between the
JACK ASHORE. 73
seconds, but the principals also took their
share in it.
But Captain Franks was firm. The chal-
lenge of Mr. Dawson had the priority, and the
marine officer was determined that the priority
of the encounter also should be his. There
seemed so much reason in this, that Brew was
forced reluctantly to yield, though not without
the consolation of knowing that he had pocketed
the fee, and that he should be able more safely
to glory over a man weakened or wearied by
previous exertion.
Now Jack, in all his positions of difficulty,
had adopted, and rigidly adhered to, the wise
rule of saying as little as possible. Before they
crossed their weapons, he was asked if he would
not consent to print an apology in the papers.
He shook his head, and pointed to his second.
The latter replied, that as it was Sir John's
first affair, the business must proceed.
When the two combatants commenced, it was
remarked that Jack's attitude was ungainly, and
VOL. III. K
7i JACK ASHORB.
that he haadled his weapoD without any regard to
the laws of the science. Indeed, he carried him-
self so awkwardly, and seemed so inexpert, that
two of the gentlemen who were present as ama-
teurs wished to interfere, saying, that they
could not permit so ignorant a person to be
sacrificed. John darted thunderbolts at them,
in the guise of black looks, and Captain Franks
peremptorily denounced any interruption.
All this encouraged the young gentleman, who
began to feint, degager, pass, and recover, secun-
dum artem^ — very much to his own satisfaction,
and the admiration of the bystanders.
Jack smiled carelessly at all this display, but
still kept a wary eye upon his adversary's antics,
who, grown bold from impunity, became more ac-
tive and vigorous than even Yet, to the surprise
of everybody. Jack remained untouched, though
he made not a single parry that was not here-
tical, and consequently damnable, according to
all rule. He seemed to know only, that sort of
natural defence which an old woman with a
JACK ASHORE. 76
<
broomstick in her hand would employ against
the attacks of a long-necked gander.
The young gentleman, with the violence of the
exercise, began to grow heated, when, on a sud-
den, to his unqualified astonishment, he saw his
own sword flying through the air, and Jack^s
within an inch of his throat. Mr. Dawson had
just time to find his right arm nearly wrenched
from its socket, and to feel the point of his op-
ponent's sword tickle the lower part of his neck ;
but, before he had time to relax from his fixed
stare of fright. Jack lowered his weapon, and
making a bow that his dancing-master would
not have claimed, he said aloud —
** Gentlemen all, I was clear in the wrong.
I was very offensive to this gentleman last night ;
wherefore I beg his pardon for it, and hope
he^U shake hands with me, and not bear
malice.*'
Mr. Dawson seized Jack^s hand with eager-
ness, and we really believe, whilst he shook it
heartily, the tears stood in his eyes. Of this
e2
76 JACK A8H0RK.
we are not sure : but he said not a word, and
as he put on his coat and waistcoat, he remained
with his back sedulously turned upon the com-
pany, and kept his handkerchief to his fore-
head unnecessarily long, under pretence of
absorbing the perspiration.
This feat gained Sir John great applause,
and his second was garrulous in his joy. Suc-
cess is, after all, the best incentive to approba-
tion. It is not enough to deserve success ; we
must obtain it — or be despised.
After th^ conversations had a little subsided.
Captain Brew intimated, through JacVs second,
by his own, that he would be willing to be satist-
fied by a verbal apology, or even with an ad-
mission that he did not wish to offend him on the
previous night. But Jack, against all the laws
of the duello^ and forgetting the character of re-
finement of which he wished to acquire the
reputation, bawled out, ** he would see him
damned first," bnd shouted to him to *' come
on.
JACK ASHORK. 77
Captain Brew began to think his situation
not quite so desirable, and to have some
doubts as to the issue of the contest However,
he felt assured that he could either kill or
wound' Jack, on account of his opponent's want
of science ; but that very want had now become
terrible to him. He feared that, without wait-
ing to parry, he would thrust simultaneously
with himself; and thus, without securing his
own life, endanger his. He laboured altogether
under a misconception, for Sir John as much
surpassed him in science as he did in physical
strength. The seaman's science was the prac-
tical and deadly one. As we have before
stated, he knew every branch of self-defence, in
every arm. He had practised it with all na-
tions, and for hours together— with the wily
Italian, and the active and skilful Frenchman ;
he had put in act every thrust and feiDt, ^th
small sharpened pegs of wood, after a fashion
well known abroad.
78 JACK ASHOEK.
In two aecoDds it was seen on which side lay
the advantage Captain Brew lost his presence
of mind, and b^an to retreat. The interest
and anxiety <xf the spectators grew intense, and
they evidently thou^t that the Bobadil would
fairly turn and run for it At l«igth, as Sir
John was pushing him hard, he treacherously
stumbled in this manner — he fell on the left knee
and the outstretched palm of the left hand, and
bowing in his head into the attitude of a ram
going to butt, he made a vigorous thrust. In this
way he expected to be totally under all Jack's
guards, and^ thus placed beneath him, to inflict a
mortal wound. But our hero was alive to every
double ; for, suddenly drawing himself back, he
seized his assailant's sword arm, and in an
instant the weapon was wrested from his hand,
broken over his head, and a sound kicking
administered to him into the bargain.
We need not tell the reader, that, in duels be-
tween gentlemen, Captain Brew's attempt was
JACK ASHOKE. 79
unfair and dishonourable. His second protested
against him, and thanked Sir John for having re-
lieved him from the trouble of kicking his princi-
pal. That principal sneaked off the ground, and
was never more heard of in society that had
any claims to be called either respectable or
honest.
Jack was now become a hero indeed. Every
one pressed around him— -every one was eager
for his notice ; and arm-in-arm with his first
antagonist, and accompanied by most of the
gentlemen who had been present, he left the
field in triumph.
Now, Sir John might have fought his battles
more humorously, or at least more ludicrously
— he might have convulsed the field with
laughter by his antics ; but, unfortunately for
the lovers of fun, he was a natural character,
and possessed a tolerably good portion of com-
mon sense. Those, therefore, who. came to
mock, remained to admire him.
From this morning may Jack's fling of ex-
80 JACK ASHORB«
travagance be dated. He went and breakfasted
with several of the first men upon the town.
He was liked exceedingly, and humoured to
the top of his heart. Among the most conspi-
cuously fashionable set he became decidedly
the fashion. His duels and his other exploits
were commented on in the papers. Less
strongly-minded fools than himself imitated his
sea swagger — indeed, caricatured it — inter-
larded their inane talk with sea phrases, and
seemed particularly anxious to learn all that
our hero had been so studious to forget.
Very pleasantly indeed did Jack whistle him-
self, fiddle himself, and yacht himself, into
society. He became a gay young fellow — called
himself a blood— and ruflSanized a little. In
spite of his careful lawyer, he lived up to his
income — he had plunged into the whirl of dis-
sipation, and knew not himself whither it was
leading him.
The few following months of follies must
remain unrecorded, until we publish them
JACK ASHORB. 81
separately, as a fashionable novel in three
volumes, under the title of the *^ Freaks of
Jack Ashore.** We must now on with our
story.
£ 6
82 JACK ASHOKR.
CHAPTER IV.
Jack marrieB in haste, to liSTe the more leisare for repentance
— Leisure, howeTer, he cannot find, yet repenteth notwith-
standing^-Sir Edward also marries, and grumbles exceed*
logly — Family jars — full of troubles — and frothy with com-
plaints.
Upon what we must term a false principle of
delicacy, Sir Edward had now totally estranged
himself from all intercourse with our unstable
hero. He made ambition his deity ; and though
he had not forswotn love, that neglected
power was consigned to all the solitariness of
its own shrine in the abode of Anne. He
wrote to, but never visited her. The purport
JACK ASHOR^. 83
of all his letters was that of love. But did
he in reality feel the love he wrote about?
If tried by the pure unaltering flame in
the bosom whose heart had been plighted to
him, we say decidedly — ^no ; but if we judge
after man's selfish nature, and his own capabi-
lities, undoubtedly yes.
To Anne, what was time or place, or
the mere accidents of life, to !the truthful-
ness of her devotion? She sought not sa-
crifices, but she would have welcomed them
gladly to have proved the singleness and
sincerity of her faith. He had offered her a
release from her engagements with him, and
plumed himself upon magnanimity. Magna-
nimity! Her answer was humble; she told
him that she bound him to nothing, but, for
her part, she would never relinquish hope — -that
she sought only his happiness, and bade him
procure it how best he could — that, for her-
self, she had formed but one idea of felicity in
this world, and that idea she never would re-
84 JACK A8HOBK.
linquish — but that if this felicity were denied
to her, the next best thing to it no one should
deprive her of— fidelity to her vows. All ihis
was expressed to Sir Edward in the quiet
language of determination. He was, at the
same time, flattered and annoyed by it.
In the mean time, he sought all means to
control fortune. He became a miser in his
expenditure, a courtier in his manners, a waiter
upon Providence, and something more sub-
missive than a waiter on that dispenser of the
good things of Providence, the prime minister.
For this he was amply rewarded, in the par^
ticipation of several nice little jobs of those
days of jobbery. Indeed it was affirmed that
he was in partnership with that particular
contractor who furnished the most complained
of article to the army and navy, when most
contract articles were advantageous only to the
contractors.
Mr. Scrivener^s star now shone triumphant
Sir John had acquired a taste for flattery, and
JACK ASHORE. 85
had taken with it a zest, for which we are
heartily ashamed of him, for some mean vices*
We are so angry with him, that we shall not
be, for some time, on such intimate terms with
him, as to call him Jack. It will be now a
long time before we hail him with that friendly
and honest name. He is Sir John Truepenny.
Now Mr. Scrivener was an able and a prac-
tised sycophant ; and Sir John, knowing him to
be a rogue, liked him, or those qualities about
him that flattered his vanity.
In this state of affairs, our baronet fell
in love with Miss Scrivener. He stood in no awe
of her superior sense, or of a better cultivated
mind. Then she was so simple, and such a
loving fool— and gentle and lady-like withal —
and a model so perfect of mere animal and
voluptuous beauty. Sir John looked upon
many fair and noble creatures; he admired
some among them, but he also feared them.
So he satisfied his choice by appealing from
their mental to Eugenia Scri veneres physical
86 JACK ASHORE.
superiority. In no high-born dame could he
find the complexion so clear, the form so sym-
metrical and rounded, the blue eyes softer and
larger, the colour of the cheeks more pure and
more glowing. And whose smile was more
exhilarating than his love's ? It was most be-
witching from its artlessness. It wrote upon
Sir John's heart, in letters of light, ^^ I joy/'
^^ I will love her as a woman, and rule her as
a child," said the foolish man.
«
So he married her. The courtship occupy-
ing only one month, there was no time to
acquaint Mrs. Snowdrop.
Now, ^e only good spirit that had not de-
serted Sir John^ was Mr. Singleheart, the
honest lawyer. This straightforward person
had done all that was possible to put his
client in the right path. He had most strenu-
ously opposed this marriage, and with an
opposition that the once humble sailor now
proudly denounced as impertinent Mr. Sin-
gleheart became offended, and tendered his
JACK ASHOBK. 87
resignation. This proceeding recalled Sir John
to some sense of prudence ; be apologised, and
swore a round oath that nothing should ever
induce him to part with him as his legal ad-
viser, and the custodier of all his affairs ; and
he concluded by promising that, in all other
important matterss those belonging to the
marriage excepted, he would be implicitly di-
rected by his counsels. Mr. Singkheart
shrugged up his shoulders and withdrew.
Long, and strenuous, and very bitter were
the daily battles that the two lawyers fought
over the settlements. Eugenia-Elfrida was re-
tained on her father's side^ and duly instructed
to wheedle Sir John into her parentis views,
which were really for her exclusive advantage.
But, on this point, all her infantine dalliance
was of no avail. If her lover happened to be
in a good humour, he stopped her pleadings
with kisses, and called her a little fool — if only
in a tolerable one, he whistled and walked
away— but if in a bad one^ he took the liberty
88 JACK ASHORE.
of damning all manner of law in its detail and
totality, and all who practised it, all parental
respect notwithstanding. This jargon about
the settlements was dreadfully distasteful to
him.
At length Mr. Scrivener gave up the strug-
gle, and was content to be an honest man,
because he could not help it Such settle*
ments and provisions were made as were
suitable to the very handsome fortune that
Miss Scrivener brought to her husband. The
wily lawyer had not given up his point, but
had only resolved to suspend his operations
until after the marriage^ and then he doubted
not but that all that belonged to his son-in-
law should be as completely under his con-
trol as if it were, and always had been, his
own property. The marriage was duly so-
lemnized, with all the splendour befitting the
rank and fortune of the parties.
This act gave the deathblow to the hopes of
the Truepenny family, of marrying its represen-
JACK ASHORE. 89
tative with the elder branch of the Fortintowers.
Old Mr* Truepenny and his brother-trustee
now no longer opposed an application to the Lord
Chancellor — though it was a sore affliction to
the family attorney. Sir Edward Fortintower
returned to his allegiance, and shortly after
married Miss Truepenny, trusting to the ul-
terior effects of the application to chancery for
wealth suitable to his ambition, and, as he said,
to ensure the happiness of his amiable wife ;
though it was strongly suspected that he
wished for something of a much less romantic
nature.
Sir Edward went about receiving congratu-
lations, and looked very humbly proud on all
the compliments paid him for his disinterested-
ness in marrying under his peculiar circum-
stances. He affected to think that the solemn
Truepenny will could not be set aside; and,
though he had joined in the petition against it,
that it ought not — that it would be a pre-
cedent to endanger all property. All this
90 JACK ASHOBE.
made the sense of gratitude on the part of his
wife towards him almost insupportable to her;
and her cares were increased bj Sir Edward
looking at times anxious and unhappy, which
looks he was pleased to impute to his fears for
his pecuniary future*
It must be fully understood, that Anne did
not go pennyless to her husband. There was
in the Truepenny family a large private pro-
perty unaffected by the wilL Miss Truepenny
had fifteen thousand pounds of her own ; yet
this and Sir Edward^s income were certainly
unequal to the support of the dignity of a
married baronet, with a suitable establishment
However, they took a very splendid mansion in
Portland Place, and there appeared to be no
want of money on the part of Sir Edward*
Still he grumbled on.
** My dear Edward,'* said Lady Fortintower
one morning to her husband, ^^ may I say
ff
something to you, and hope it may be received
JACK ASHOBS. 91
in the same affectionate spirit that would dic-
tate it ?"
^^ Assuredly, my dear love," said Sir Ed-
ward, placing the paper which he was reading
upon the tables and looking devoutly attentive,
yet every now and then stealing a glance at
the paragraph that had just before so com-
pletely absorbed his attention.
^^ I wish to express my grief at the insuffi-
ciency of our means—" and here the unbidden
tears started into her eyes — ^^and of myself y to
ensure your happiness."
^^ Happiness, my love ! I am peculiarly happy
' — ^possessing you, how could I be otherwise?^—-
Then smiling lovingly, he pressed her hand,
and, without relinquishing it» read a few more
lines of his paper, and squeezing her hand
more ardently than before, cried out, ^*The
clamorous scoundrel !"
<^What is the matter, Edward?' said his
lady, not making herself the debtor for the
last energetic squeeze.
92 JACK ASHORE.
*' Here is the democratical rascal, Wrongside,
railing against the quality of the flour and
biscuit lately supplied to the forces, upon the
presentation of a most libellous and rebellious
petition.^"
'* But, dear Edward, are the flour and bread
really bad?"
*^ That has nothing at all to do with the
question, my gentle love. The flour and the
biscuits are only eaten by the common men,
and those who embark in our glorious naval
and military services should be reconciled to
some privations for the good of their country.
Besides, it is well to inure them to hardships.
But the grievous thing is, making this com-
plaint a peg on which to hang sedition against
the state, and a scandal against myself."
^^Good gracious, Edward, how are you
affected by it ?"
** Why, I procured this very contract for
Alderman Grabandall, and this democratical
Wrongside more than insinuates that our food,
my dear love — yours and mine, Anne — is all the
JACK ASHORB. 93
better and the more plentifuU in proportion to
that of the brave defenders of our country
being scanty and bad.**
*<It is dreadful, Edward; very dreadful
indeed* I don^t think I shall again be able to
be civil to that alderman. Why is he so fre-
quently here ?^
** Business, my love. I wish you to show that
man marked attention. Not happy, my love ?
how can you think me unhappy, and you near
me ? But I must pick out the news — I have
not lately attended my place in parliament.
Not happy ? if there is a shade on my bro wat
times, it is merely that I do not see you, my
love, surrounded by that splendour of which
you are so worthy, which would so much be-
come you, and which wealth only could pur-
chase."
Sir Edward read on, till he met something
that caused him to start upon his legs and
exclaim, ^^ Anne, could you ever conceive such
94 JACK A8HOEE.
intolerable impertinence? Our worthy, inno-
cent} disingenuous, simple-hearted sailor — our
much beloved cousin ^has filed a petition before
the Lord Chancellor, to be heard by counsel
on his behalf, concerning the Truepenny wilL
Did you ever hear of a baser ingratitude?
This very moment that man, Anne^ of whom
you are disposed to think so favourably, had
it not been for me, might have been suing as
a pauper, surrounded by all a pauper's wants
and misery ?"
** Would that have been right, my love^ and
you could have prevented it?*'
*^ It is the only fault that I could ever find,
my dear Anne, in your beautifully constituted
mind, that of referring the complicated interests
and actions of life to abstract truths and rights.
It wonH work well. Society is a mass of sa-
crifices — I might have said, and still have been
virtuous enough for society, if this John True-
penny had a right to my estates, he had only
JACK ASHOBE. 95
the right through the laws, and no absolute
right to possession until the law had given it to
hinj.^
^^ But then, my own Edward, you would not
have been virtuous enough for me ; but that
you were so, is proved by the very noble man-
ner in which you acted all through that busi-
ness. Do not impair the merit of that action by
repenting of it."
^^ I do not ; I alluded to the act, only in elu-
cidation of Sir John's ingratitude ; for though
he can have no shadow of a right to any inter-
ference, and will be ultimately scouted out of
court, yet will it cause a delay that is just now
very annoying to me. Anne, we want money."
^^ I am deeply sorry to hear you say this.
Why, my love, take a mansion so expensive ?
and the furniture also seems very costly.^
** It was all for your sake, loveliest ; and I
must keep up my connexion."
** And yet we hardly see any one, excepting
city people, contractors, stock-brokers, and
96 JACK A8H0KE.
merchants — very worthy people, I am sure.
Yet this household display was hardly neces-
sary for them ?"
** Ah ! my little wife, are you so shrewd ?
They are the best acquaintance, my dear, for
a poor baronet. But do not embrace the idea,
either that I am miserable, or that our outlav
is beyond our means. I only wish that we were
richer, and that Sir John had not proved so
ungrateful."
^* I believe, when you inquire into it, that
you will find he knows nothing of the matter.
Yet I have been much deceived in him. His
late course of life is utterly at variance with
the heart and the sense that I once gave him
'the credit of possessing. — Farewell, my love."
"What ? — shall you be so long absent? Re-
member that I am only happy whilst I believe
you to be so. Ah ! you have sadly spoiled roe,
Edward ; never before was I covetous of
riches.'*
Sir Edward went upon his multifarious busi«^
JACK ASHORE. 97
ness. He saw at least twenty persons before
he returned home to dress for dinner ; and the
last call he made was upon our very undignified
hero, from whom he went to his club.
VOL. IIL F
98 JACK ASHOKK.
CHAPTER V
A conversation between two ladies, in which matrimony is
discussed, and the imperatiTe duty of dames to show a
proper spirit insisted upon.
But Lady Fortintower had also her occupa-
tions. Lady Truepenny had been, for a very
long time, as a stranger to her, and there had
been no encouragement held out by either her
or Sir Edward for an intimacy between the
families. Cards of ceremony had been scru-
pulously interchanged, and in that consisted
all the notice they had taken of each other.
Lady Fortintower was, therefore, surprised
when she heard the name of Lady Truepenny
JACK ASHORE. 99
announced) and receiving, at the same time, an
earnest note, requesting that Lady Fortintower
would be at home to her.
There was no awkwardness in the meeting,
for Lady Truepenny was too simple to feel,
and Lady Fortintower too highly bred to show
any. The former was flurried and agitated,
and had evidently something of importance to
communicate.
*^ Permit me to congratulate you personally.
I trust that you are as happy **
** Not as the day's long, as you were going
to say, my lady ; and it's a wonder too, for,
really, Jack's a good fellow."
" Meaning Sir John Truepenny ?'
<< Of course; I call him Jack, and he calls
me Gin, though your ladyship very well knows
that Eugenia-Elfrida are really the names I was
christened by. Gin is an odious abbreviation —
but Jack will have it — he says he will have
his Gin — and, really, sometimes I think he gets
too much of it.^
p 2
100 JACK ASHORE.
" Of neither, I trust. Lady Truepenny —
meaning you, or the vulgar liquor?''
^* Both ! O dear me ! both. When he was
a bachelor, he would not touch spirits; but now
nothing comes amiss to him. He beat Sir
Bilberry Blink, the night before last, drinking
raw brandy for a wager. He came home
swearing drunk, and was going to beat me too.^*
" How very horrid P
^' Oh, thaf s not the worst of it ; he positively
burned, with his own hands, my new Brussels
lace robe, because it was cut too low in the
bust. Now I call that really horrid — the swear-
ing sea-brute !"
** That was very terrible^ indeed ; I am ex-
tremely sorry to hear that Sir John gives way
to such violences. I always imagined that he
was a very good-tempered man.^
** Good-tempered ! dear, dear Lady Fortin-
tower, it was only this very rooming that he
kicked my respected father all down stairs, and
flung his hat out at him, as he bundled him
JACK ASHOKE. 101
down the stone steps into the street !•— hi — hi —
hi ! — I can't help laughing, it was so droll — isn't
it very shocking? — ^hi— hi — hi I I do assure
you I was never S0 much hurt in my life — I
did scream so» and yet it was funny beyond
anything. I wish you had seen it/'
** Really, I am very glad I did not ; but
Mr. Scrivener must have given Sir John some
cause for this intemperate conduct ?^
^ Not the least in the world, I do positively
assure you — only I believe it is all along of
your good lord and master."
^^ My good lord and master ! Surely you
cannot mean Sir Edward ?"
*^ Nobody else, madam. He called this morn-
ing for the first time, and was very civil to me ;
but he came on business, and scolded my good
lord and master for going to law with him ; and
then my good man — humph — we call husbands
by strange names ! — my good man got into a
bad passion, but not with your good man — but
with my dear, careful, prudent papa. So papa
102 JACK ASHORE.
being in the way, my good man kicked bim
out; and, what is to be done, the Lord in
heaven only knows-^that is to say, if he ever
would trouble himself about it.''
<< Do you know, dear Lady Truepenny, that
I do not like your taking that name that you
last mentioned in vain. What can I possibly
do to serve you in this affair ?^
<« Nobody can serve me, that I can see ; I
am a very ill-used woman — all because Fve
been a dutiful daughter."
" How is that possible ?*"
*^ Why, Jack and I would have rubbed on
very well together, if papa would have left us
alone — for, really, John is a good soul, and not
such a fool as papa and all the fine gentlefolks
wish to make him. At first, I had everything
my heart could wish, and dear, dear Jack
seemed inclined to settle down and be as com-
fortable as all that the world could give could
make us. Indeed, he longed to go into the
country, and see some of his fine estates, and
JACK ASHORE. 103
talked about studyiDg, and all that non-
sense/'
^^ Begging your pardon, I think he talked
very well."
** Perhaps so, for he must know his own de-
ficiencies ; but I think, with all his fondness,
he was a little impertinent when he presumed
to talk of mine. I deficient — ^indeed ! — I want
instruction I It is all very well to say so in
comparison, madam, with you and other quick
ladies; but, in comparison with an uncouth
sailor like him, the thing, as my father truly
said, was quite insulting/'
** And did your father say this?"
^^ He did; and very right he was, I think."
" I am bitterly— deeply sorry for it. Might
I suggest to you, my dear madam, that it
would not only be more dutiful, but really
more pleasant to you, to listen more to youi
husband, and less to your father."
** I thought so once ; but it is too late now.
I have discovered that, with all his bluntness
104 JACK ASHORE.
and his make-believe frankness, Sir John True-
penny has a bad heart T
** You surprise me by saying so. I should
have thought directly the reverse. Have you
any strong reason for coming to this painful
conclusion ? It ought to be a very strong
one.**
** O ! the very strongest, bless you. He has
no regard for my interest-*npne for my father.
I have made it a particular request to him — ^ac-
tually gone down on my knees to him — to have
nothing to do with that hateful Mr. Single-
heart, who was so stingy about the settlements,
and to make my father his only agent ; and —
would you believe it ? — he is deaf to me, and was
so indulgent in everything else ; but to refuse
me so obstinately in what I have most set my
heart on, is quite enough to break it Do you call
that love?— and such grand reasons as my
father gave !*'
" Well, what followed T
^* I was determined to tire him out. It was
JACK ASHOBfi. 105
such a trifle I and such an insult, too, to my
poor father, not to be preferred by his son-in-
law to a miserable pettifogger who does not
keep his carriage as pa does, and has done ever
since I can remember. Mr. Singleheart does
not even keep a horse or a man-servant. Such
conduct of Sir John^s was a reflection upon the
family dignity.**
** Pray go on.**
" I am not fond of showing spirit — it is
so. troublesome ; but I have got some, how-
ever, and a very proper spirit, I do assure
you it is. So, as I made so little progress, pa
thought I ought to show more spirit, and I
did."
*' I have no doubt of it ; now tell me the re-
sult"
** But who can show a proper spirit without
lodng temper — I can't— can you? So 1 got
jn a passion, and gave it Jack properly — I
called him some hard names— I do assure you I
F 5
106 JACK ASHORE.
did. You may think I am very tame, but I did
indeed !*•
'^ But how did Sir John behave 7*
** In the worst manner possible I Instead of
seeing the thing in the proper light, and con-
sulting the hopour of the famUy, he d-^ — d
me and papa both, and told me if I wished to
fight the battle out in Billingsgate Reach, he
had a broadside of double-shotted guns quite
at my service. What ^ could the wretch
mean ?"
" Pray — ^pray do not call him wretch I*
** I called him worse than that ; so, ever since,
he has, tiumed our beautiful mansion into a
tippling shop. Such company ! — such scenes I —
and then he will come home drunk, with bruised
body, scratched face, and blackened eyes — ^be
away in his sailing-boat for days, and tell me,
jeeringly, that I ought to be a very happy
woman, as 1 had bis entire permission to go
to the devil my own way, and not to cross his.^
" This is a very melancholy description in-
JACK ASHORE. 107
deed. I could not give you advice vdthout be
oomiDg so offensive as^ most likely, to cause you
to persevere in your present course out of mere
resentment. It is clear to me that you ought
immediately to make your election between
your father and your husband, and I trust
that God will enlighten your heart to judge
rightly.'*
^ O ! all that's past and done with. Be-
sides, there's Colonel Chacehell, and several
very gentlemenly men — and a lord among them
— assures me that Sir John disregards his mar-
riage vow, and makes game of me among
naughty women. I once got hold of a letter
addressed to him from a lady, — * Fve caught
you now. Master Jack,* said I ; so I broke the
seal and read it; but I got nothing for my
trouble. It was nothing but a canting sermon
addressed to him on the shockingness of his
life, and signed Susan Snowdrop — some ficti-
tious name, no doubt ; for surely it canH be
the bumboat,woman^s daughter."
lOd JACK ASHORE*
^* I don't think the name was fictitious. Do
you remember any of its contents ?^
*^ O ! they were pure good in the preaching
line — talked of his immortal welfare, and all
that sort of stuff, and spoke of my happiness
being in his hands, and that Jack was respon-
sible for it here and hereafter. It almost made
me cry — that's flat; and I would have given it
to Jack with all my heart and soul, for it
might have done him good, but you know I
couldn't, as I had broken the seal—- so I burnt
it."
** All this is very melancholy indeed ! "
said Lady Fortintower, with a look of sor-
row approaching to anguish. *^ What can
I possibly do for you and for your hus-
band ?"
^^ O ! a great deal you can do, and do do
it — there's a pretty Lady Fortintower. You
and Sir Edward have great influence over my
stiff-necked bargain. Only persuade him to
JACK ASHOBB. 109
do what father likesi and alter my settle-
ments — that's all; and I'll love you both as
long — as long — as I live — and I can't say any
more."
110 JACK ASHORK.
CHAPTER VI.
The parable of the fat oz and the blackbirds— Jack goes on
badlj— Takes op with low vices and low oompanions, and
consequently is often taken op himself— Goes into the coun-
try, and talks about election matters — Shows his ignorance
by showing his patriotism— Forms his own resolution.
The last chapter furnished a tolerably accu-
rate picture of Sir John's domestic life, whicii
life not exactly suiting him, he, with a rude
sort of art, had contrived to make himself
as little domestic as he could. He had hoped to
kick many of his troubles out of his house with
his father-in-law. He deceived himself, for his
daughter remained. Our hero did not much
speculate, for he did not much care, in what
manner Mr. Scrivener would behave under the
JACK ASHOaK. Ill
public insult to which be had subjected him*
Mr. Scrivener himself appeared to take no
notice of it whatever. He abstained from the
house of his son-in-law, but in no other way
showed his sense of resentment.
Some time after this, in the midst of his re-
pinings, Sir Edward was removed into the
Upper House, by the title of Baron Fortin-
tower ; and thus one of the essentials of the
famous Truepenny will was accomplished. But
the essential to which the new Lord Fortin-
tower attached the most consequence was still
wanting to him — the Truepenny estates —
through the very provisions of the will itself.
Now my lord had vainly flattered himself
that in one or two hearings the prayer of the
petition to the chancellor, merely as a matter of
course, would be granted, as his interview with
Sir John had removed, as he thought, every
opposition. Accordingly, he remained with his
bride in England, although he had been appoint-
ed minister to a very snug little German court,
112 JACK ASHORE.
with a salary more consonant with the dignity
of the august nation which he represented, than
the paltry little principality which was to be-
nefit by the representation. How infinitely
was he deceived !
Now for the lawsuit. Conceive to yourself a
noble fat ox struck suddenly dead on an open
plain, and call it the Truepenny cause. First
there comes a grave old raven, with an immense
capacity of paunch, and a beak some little the
worse for wear. He squats himself down upon the
very highest point of the ox, a little rich emi-
nence of fat ; he thrusts his bill into it, gives, with
his mandibles, a smack or two, then tosses them
up towards the clouds with a glorious access of
satisfaction, and commences with ** Caws!
cause i cause V* in a triumphant outcry. This
raven of a goodly presence is my Lord Chan-
cellor.
At the gathering cry of ^* Caws I cause !
cause !" four or five other ravens, all black
birds, eagerly hop over the carcass, and begin
JACK ASHORE. 113
diSgfng their bills into it with wonderful
activity, plucking forth rare savory bits, while
they join in the chorus of *^ Caws ! Cause I !
cause ! T' between each mouthful ; nor is the
call unanswered. Another flock of birds,
equally black and hungry, join in the rich
repast ; but the two sets, whilst they are cram-
ming themselves to suffocation, make strange
grimaces at each other, with strange noises, as
if they were quarrelling — ^but it is no such
thing. These are the counsel for and against
the Truepenny cause.
But there is another set of birds of prey,
more abject and quite as voracious — an obscene
gang ; these do not presume to mount on the
body, but, echoing the common cry of cause !
hop round and round the carcass, spying out,
and acquainting the black birds above, where
are situated the nicest morsels; and in re-
turn for this service, get thrown to them most
of the garbage, and sometimes a savoury bit or
two as a reward — these are the attorneys in the
114 JACK A8H0&E.
Truepenny cause. Alas ! for the fat ox and
the rightful owners thereof I
At the very first hearing of the petition of
Lord Fortintower in behalf of Anne his wife,
as sole heiress, and the two trustees, to set aside
the will, as most of its provisions had he&i
accomplished, and immediately after this very
natural and just request had been legaUy
made, up hop out of their covert one, two,
three, four, black birds of prey^ one after the
other, who rose in order to establish the right
of Mr. Scrivener to be a party to the suit, in
the behalf of the probable issue of his daugh-
ter ; which probable issue, being of the elder
branch of the Fortintower family, had rights,
either if the will remained intact, or was set
aside ; moreover, notwithstanding, &c.
It occupied the wordy warfare of a whole
term to decide whether Mr. Scrivener should
be heard by the court through his counsel at
all, whilst the court was listening to him on every
opportunity ; and those opportunities were fre*
JACK A8H0RK. 115
quenty because it was admitted on all hands
that the cause was very urgent — ^it was a rich
cause.
Early next term it was decided that Mr.
Scrivener m^hi be heard on behalf of a being
that had no existence. Then Mr. Scrivener^s
counsel became parentally careful of the in-
terests of this non«existent being, and were
urgent in praying that the present trustees of
the Truepenny estate should be relieved from
their invidious and troublesome office by the
Court of Chancery, and that a receiver should
be appointed under the authority of the same
court ; — ^and who so proper as Mr. Scrivener
himself, the ancestor of the being not yet
bom?
Here another party stepped forward, and
another gang of ravens hopped upon the
carcass of the fat ox. This last flock clamoured
for the interests of Mr. Winterton, the
Truepenny family lawyer, who had a sort of
freehold in the will, and a lien on the estates —
116
JACK ASHORE.
SO they all said — whilst that will had legal
existence.
At this crisis Lord Fortintower lost his
patience, and left the country. He indem-
nified himself by outshining in splendour the
sovereign to whom he was accredited ; though
his complaints were heart-rending as he bewail-
ed his poverty, and anathematized all man-
ner of law and lawyers generally, and the True-
penny lawsuit and Mr. Scrivener particularly.
On this occasion our not now worthy Sir John
fell into an inexcusable passion ; he could hardly
be restrained from seeking his father-in-law, that
kind-hearted gentleman who was so provident
for his unborn children, and laying violent
hands on him. Sorry we are to record it, that
he began to detest his wife, and all his feelings
exhibited a downward bias. Two mornings in
the week he was to be heard of in the watch-
house ; and he became not only tlie father of
-his own freaks, but every disgraceful outrage'
that took place in the metropolis was fathered
JACK ASHORE. 117
upon him also. The only redeeming circum-
stance in these disgraceful acts was his drol-
lery, and the complete absence of any inten-
tional harm. But what was matter of deep
regret, his constitution began to suffer — he
grew bloated, and both appetite and strength
began to fail him.
He had now been several months Jack (uharen
and was no more like Jack afloat than a Jack
in o£Sce is like Jack the Giant Killer. Jack
now could kill no giants, but there were three
giants very rapidly killing him; the giant
Debauchery, the giant Gluttony, and the giant
Drunkenness. With bis companions he was
sole sovereign and earthly god, but he had no
friends among them — no, not one. The only
friends that were accessible to him were his
lawyer and his physician.
'^ Go into the country,'' said the lawyer,
^' for you are now living beyond your means,
and your wife is ruining you."
. ^* Go into the country," said the doctor ;
118 JACK ASHORE.
«« fur you are living beyond your stamina, and
your dissipation is killing you.**
•* My wife be d d," said the baronet to
the legal — *' curse my stamina,** to the medical
adviser.
But events, those stern daughters of neces-
sity, decided against Sir John's decision. The
renowned Colonel Chaoehell had said that our
hero could not ride— that a sailor never could
ride, and that all the lessons in the world never
would make him ride ; a sailor might hold on,
but, as to riding, a duck would more properly
grace a saddle than Sir John. Colonel Chace-
hell was the first sporting character in the
kingdom, and a vain roan. It was hardly that
he could be made to acknowledge Sir John*5
superiority in yachting. They hated each
other, and they tacitly agreed to fight a duel
with horses ; that is to say, decide which of the
two could break the neck of the other by mad
riding. This was one of the events; another
was, that the town began to thin, and Sir John,
JACK ASHORE. 119
fancying himself a man of fashion, would need
migrate as men of fashion do. But the other
event was the death of the member for the
little dirty borough town of Fortintower, which
town was Sir John^s sole property; and as
some had dared him to be a member of par-
liament, for that sole reason he was resolved to
become one.
Not one of these events singly would have
operated upon our hero in withdrawing him
from his favourite haunts; but, combined, he
determined to go down immediately to his
principal estate, Fortintower Hall, enact the
host, get returned for his own borough, hunt,
shoot, and break Colonel Chacehell's neck, if
he could. Accordingly, Sir John, his lady.
Colonel Chacehell, and a famous dog-fancier
and rat-catcher, named Groggy Foxhead, made
the partie qtiarree in the baronet's travelling
coach. They went down in style. Other
vehicles conveyed valets, femmea de chambre^
and the usual appurtenances to wealth, among
120 JACK ASHORE.
which was his faithful, though neglected friend
and lawyer, Mr. Singleheart.
We must just remark that the colonel was a
very handsome, dressy, aristocratic-looking
middle-aged man, crafty and not rich ; with a
well-oiled tongue, and two absorbing devotions
—one to himself, and the other to the fair sex.
Consequently Sir John ought not to be, and no-
body else was, surprised at the sporting colonePs
devotion to Lady Truepenny. She liked it,
but Sir John did not, though he had long
ceased to like her. However, as our hero had
most decidedly and charitably resolved to break
the colonel's neck, he thought this outrageous
flirtation might be tolerated for the little time
that would elapse before the colonel was brought
home, black in the face, on a hurdle.
Groggy Foxhead was an unmitigated black-
guard, who ought long ago to have been hung.
As he was the most unflinching rascal about
town, he was petted with a great deal of pa-
tronage; he was taken down to be generally
JACK ASHORE. 121
useful,^ and to manage the election. He could
turn his hand to anything, and Sir John^s
acquisition of the scoundrel was much envied
by the whole fraternity of lordly bloods.
We must call our friend ^ Jack' once more, for
really we cannot help liking him. As he ap-
proached the baronial residence of his ancestors,
through majestic woods, and the sweet silence of
rural tranquillity, his heart smote him for his
self-degradation. The bells of his little town
rang ; there was a cavalcade of the neighbour-
ing gentry to meet and escort him home for
the three last miles of his journey; and a
goodly display of happy tenantry were assem-
bled to greet him on the lawn of his stately hall.
He was silent and ashamed. At the mo-
ment he alighted, he abhorred his compa-
nions; he was disgusted at the simple forward-
ness of his wife, found the specious colonel
detestable, and beheld the blackguard rat-
catcher with absolute loathing.
He did not make a favourable impression upon
VOL. III. G
122 JACK ASHORE*
his neighbours. He was awkward and shy ; the
honest* frankness of the sailor dfd not appear,
and he imitated the man of fashion abominably.
However, the colonel took off all trouble
from his hands, and relieved him from doing
the honours of the host. The respectable
heads of the old families in the neighbourhood
thought the new-coraers a queer set, and much
regretted the exchange of owners that the pro*
pertjf had so singularly found. With the ex-
ception of those whose interests bade them
stay, the rest of the gentlemen left early, and
not more than fifteen sat down to dinner with
Sir John for the first time in his paternal halL
It was a night of revelry, and Sir John got
aristocratically drunk ; but he was drunk
sooner than the rest ; and when all his guests
had departed, he got sober enough to observe
things passing between the colonel and his
wife that made him very miserable. It was not
much — nothing more than gallantry, a little
heightened by incipient intoxication, and not
JACK ASHORE. 123
sufficiently repelled by the lady ; and poor
Jack was neither sober enough to remonstrate,
nor to act ; so he got dead drunk again, and in
that state was carried to his room, under the
superintendence of his affectionate wife and her
affectionate friend.
Sir Jdm and his lady had, for some time,
slept in separate rooms. This arrangement
had originated solely in the fact that the gen-
tleman seldom went to bed at home, and never
sober. Jack arose early next the mornings fever-
ish and miserable; unnoticed he walked out
among his shrubberies and enclosures, eating
to nausea the bitter bread of repentance. The
balmy air, the fresh breeze of the autumnal
morning, the gorgeous beauty of the hanging
woods, and the repose of the scene, at once
allayed both his physical and mental sufferings.
He strolled on, and passed into the vil-
lage, that lay cradled up in the forest be*
neath the HalL Here he met with respectful
and kindly greetings; he heard the voice of
G 2
124 JACK ASHOEE.
pity, that was not iotended for him to hear, for
his looks of illness — and, whilst both bodj
and soul grew more healthful, he grew more
sad*
One very old man blessed him, and blessed
his beautiful wife, and hoped yet to see his
children before he died, to bless them also. It
was long, very long, since Jack had heard the
voice of nature. He was moved by it almost
to tears. He took the horny hand, so hard
with honourable labour, and pressed it in his
now softened and flaccid one.
" Thank ye, shipmate, and heartily, for your
blessing," said Sir John. *^ I wish you'd show
me how to deserve it."
" Why, Sir John, if you wish to deserve it,
you will deserve it, surely. You look kind-
hearted, and arn*t a bit proud like. I am but
a poor old man, and can do nothing but pray
for you."
•* Well, I wish you would — I wish you
would — it's more than I do for myself. I be-
JACK ASHOEK. 126
lieve youll be the only being in the world that
does. But all this is very spooney — very.^
So Jack turned away with a false, shame upon
him, and under a false impression too — for
there was one who prayed for him constantly,
deeply, and fervently — one whom he had as
totally forgotten as if she had been but a
casual face met one day among thousands in
the market-place.
Sir John did not return home till noon,
during which time it was supposed that he wa»
getting rid of the effects of his debauch in his
bedroom. He had been better employed, in
endeavouring to rid himself of his evil habits.
He had made very fine resolutions, and he met
his wife and the colonel with a great deal of
gravity, and ate his breakfast more like the
proud and shy sailor, than the harum*Bcarum
would-be man of the world.
But this morning the colonel proved very
seductive, and his lady vastly amiable; and,
before the repast was over, the exciting news
126 JACK ASHORE.
was brought that Sir John would not be allow^
to walk over the course, and win his election
unopposed. Now, Jack, before he was ac-
quainted with this astounding fact, felt a great
repugnance to stand at all, and, in his solitude
of that very morning, had been shaping reasons
for himself and his friends, to excuse himself for
backing out, not wishing to add another folly
to the already extravagant volume of his fool-
ishness.
^^Beat to quarters," said Jack, and he whistled
out, for the first time for a long while, *^ Hearts
of oak are our ships,^' with the true spirit of a
sailor. New life seemed to hav^ been imparted
to every one, and all was bustle and animation.
*^ I am willing to fight whilst there's a shot
in the locker," continued our hero ; *^ but what
amltodo?""
*^ I am down to all these things,^ said the
colonel. *^ But you need do nothing, for Mr.
Singleheart here tells me that every rascal of a
voter is your tenant at will. Just send Groggy
JACK ASHORE. It^7
Foxhead down to the boroughreeve, or what-
ever the shopkeeping blackguard may be called,
and tell him to bring his brother voters up in
a body. Give the malt-loving swine a gorge of
bread-and-cheese and ale, and then without
ceremony order them to broomstick the new
candidate out of the place the moment he
dares show his impudent face. We live in a
free country, Sir John, where every one has a
right to do what he likes with his own."
*' But, colonel, will that be fair fighting,
above-board ?"
" Fair ! to be sure it i& What do you
think they have the privilege of voting for ?"
** To choose the best parliament man, I
take it."
<< Pooh ! a forecastle notion. To maintain
th^ independence of the English character, the
prosperity of the country, and to obey their land-
lord."
" Come, Mr. Singleheart, let us have your
notion,^' said Sir John.
VIS JACK ASHOKK.
Now, Singlehcart, though one of the frater-
nity of blackbirds^ was, as we have before
stated, a rare bird, (which reads just as well as
a rara avis^) being in all things honest ; and if
there be degrees of honesty, which may be well
doubted, his honesty was the more pure and
enlightened, the more beings it was lik^y to
affect. If he venerated honesty as between
man and man, he adored it as between man and
millions. His simple heart warm with this
feeling, he became eloquent, and launched out
in such a strain of enlightened patriotism, that
it startled the colonel, made Jack get up and
hug him, and set his lady yawning so out-
rageously, that it cost her the practice of an
hour and a half at her looking-glass, before she
could again make her pretty features settle
down into their habitual smile.
Sir John formed his resolution, and acted
upon it instantly. Before he rose from the
table he sent for his steward, and gave direc-
tions that a splendid dinner should be provided
JACK ASHORE. 129
that day week for seventy. When he took the
trouble to rouse himself, there was that about
him which not only forbade disobedience, but
overawed question. The colonel smiled, shrugs
ged up his shoulders, and offered his arm to
Lady Truepenny, who exclaimed, ^^ O la !
seventy V and tripped with her devoted at-
tendant into the conservatory.
" I say, lawyer," said our hero to Mr.
Singleheart, who remained, *^ you are a heart
of oak — sound, sound to the core. I honour
you, but I don't like you — that is, not much.
I detest that colonel — ^he knows it; and yet,
after dinner, I should be loath to part with
the beggar. But my head, at times, wanders
sadly. On board, I could get drunker than
David's sow at night, and have no more head-
ache next morning than a boar-pig. Now,
lawyer, see this be done, and well done. In
my name let a respectful note of invitation be
sent to every one of the voters of the borough,
to honour me with his company to dinner next
.6 5
130 JACK ASHORE.
Saturday. Let the note be respectful — such a
note as a middy would send to a posl-captaiii.
I will show my deference to the suffrage — ^that's
the word, I believe — ^for the man, lawyer, who
would buUy his countrymen out of their rights,
deserves something worse tluui being kicked to
death by butterflies. Now, there's a jolly cock,
don^t preach against me this morning. I^U be
good by*and-bye; youVe put me in the right
tack as to the voting ; now let me know how
all this used to be managed.''
With a little tronble, and some few repeti-
tions, Mr. Singleheart made him understand
that the freemen of the borough had, time out
of mind, voted either for the owner of the pro>
perty or his nominee—that under this in-
fluence, now a Whig, and now a Tory, had
been returned — that the late member had
been put in by his cousin Lord Fortintower,
it was rumoured, for a very handsome consider-
ation — that he was a Tory, and that it was
expected that he^ Sir John, would either stand
JACK ASHORE. 131
for the borough himself on the Tory interest)
or put in a member with similar princioles.''
^^ But who expects this ?*^
^^ Lord Fortintower, assuredly. Had not
Mr. Veerall died so suddenly, and had his lord-
ship been in England^ the latter would have
prompted you before now. The minister ex-
pects it also, for favours done to your cousin he
looks upon as obligations conferred upon you,
and Lord Fcnrtintower has been much fa-
voured.**
Jack whistled out shrilly the bar of a very
ugly tune.
<^ I have no doubt that you will soon hear,
either directly or indirectly, from the minister
himself on this subject. However, as parlia-
ment will not again meet before January, there
is plenty of time to arrange your plans before
the Speaker can issue his writ for the election."
^' And you think that all this quarter-deck
ordering is wrong i^
*^ Decidedly ! I have said it — I have proved
it."
132 JACK ASHORE.
" Then leave the matter to me.**
Sir John sent for his man of all work. He
appeared in a state fit for any or for none.
** Groggy, you blinking varmint, you are
already three sheets in the wind. How dare
you stow away your spirits before your master ?
There, take that," (administering an orthodox
box on the ear,) ^^ to steady your top hamper.
I am villanously served, Mr. Singleheart.^
*' You have villanous servants— what else
can you expect ?**
*^ Ah, true ! but that's preaching. What
have you to say» you blackguard ?" said Sir
John to the ratcatcher.
^^ I ain't got nuffen to say particular wise —
only as this— Muster Steward as a guv me a gal-
lows drain o* summut short, upon your honnor*s
fat, beastly, thick— ick ale; I'll sob— ob— obber
myself in no time. I'll get a little cold water
pumped upon my pimple — and I'll be more
sobberer than a judge, and a precious sight
'cuter."*
JACK ASHORE. 133
In a very short time, the fellow was as fit
for roguery as nature had designed him to be^
and that is saying a great deal for Groggy's
capacity* and for nature's power. He was then
ordered to go into the town, and learn by all
possible means the sentiments of the voters,
and, without compromising his master, to re-
port them to him faithfully.
134 JACK ASHOBK.
CHAPTER VII.
Jack plays sad pranki^— Frightens his oompany, robs th^
rector, astonishes the doctor, and mortally offends the lord-
lieutenant --in fact, becomes a very bad boy, neglecting his
wife, and cultivating the .bottle-^Election matters further
discussed ~How to shoot flying, and to mark your game.
Horses were ordered, and the rest of the day
was occupied in riding about the estate, and in
returning the calls of the neighbouring gentry.
The party consisted at first only of the colonel.
Sir John, and his lady. Our hero, during the
excursion, fell into a thousand inconsistencies,
and his humours were more variable than the
flaws of wind on the tropical ocean — now
agitated with contempt, now with pity, for his
JACK ABHORB. 135
angry with the colonel because he
was not sufficiently amuang, and now still more
angry because he was so much so —and always
hating him. Indeed, that sporting officer
treated Jack like a hooked shark — he played
with, tormented, but was fearful of coming too
near him. They were both well mounted, and
Sir John vainly tempted him to make the most
dangerous leaps, and to ride races with him
over the most broken ground.
As they proceeded, they gathered several
gentlemen in their train, among whom was the
immense rector, and his more moderately pro-
portioned curate — both mighty hunters; and
afterwards they were joined by the principal
doctor of the place. Bir John kept all these in
roars of laughter by his strange language, his
mad challenges to Colond Chacehell, and his
singular freaks of horsemanship. That morn-
ing the colonel chose to be all gentleness and
urbanity, and assiduous in attention to Lady
Truepenny, as if to make the contrast between
136 JACK ASHORE.
him and his host the greater. Whenever they
met any one on the high-road who took oflp his
hat to Sir John, he hooked it away with
his riding- whip, and whirled it in the air ; and
made demonstrations of dismounting, to kiss
every pretty woman whom he met.
He then dared Colonel Chacehell to play a
game of " follow your leader," and upon re-
ceiving a polite refusal, he commenced playing
tricks with himself and his horse,— now riding
with both legs on one side of the saddle, now
on the other, and sometimes with his face to the
tail of his steed. But there was so much good-
humoured drollery exhibited in all these absur-
dities, that they elicited roars of laughter. It
is so easy to laugh with our landlord, our
patroU) and our host. The colonel, however,
got on most amicable terms with the doctor,
and in the most natural way in the world
called his attention to all Jack's freaks.* He
was a sad designing fellow, that colonel.
At length the cavalcade approached a slu
JACK ASHORE. 137
gish, muddy pool of water by tbe roadside,
which Jack challenged the colonel to leap with
him. This, of course, was refused. Sir John
then taunted him bitterly with want of pluck,
and avowed his determination of making the
leap by himself. From this, every one present
endeavoured to dissuade him, for the very sen-
sible reason that no horse that was ever foaled
could have done more than about half tbe dis-
tance^ Could there have been a better cause
assigned for making Jack attempt it? He
made three or four trials ; but the more intel-
ligent animal swerved three times, and refused
it. But, at last, being maddened and goaded
by whip and spur, he made a most extraordi-
nary effort, and plunged himself and rider in
the centre of the abominable stagnant slough.
Not one of the party but was covered with the
splashing of the liquid mud — in such quantities,
too, that it drowned their propensity to laugh-
ter. The noble animal was fixed deep in mud
and water, above the saddle. Sir John was
188 JACK A8HO&E.
obliged to dismount, and, with the water up to
his neck, to wade on shore. It was only a joke
to him— he loved the water in every place but
in his own throat — clear salt water, if it were
to be had, if not, fresh water — and even dirty
fresh water was better than none.
The next thing to be done was to relieve the
horse from his situation, which, by the assistance
of some labouring men, was, with much difficulty,
effected. Then, against every remonstrance,
wet and filthy as he was. Jack persisted in re-
mounting, saying, that it would prevent himself
and horse from taking cold. Once more seated,
every one gave him a wide berth. He had lost
his hat, and his lately curled and powdered hair
hung down lankily, and in streaks of various co-
lours, upon the collar of his blue and gold-laoed
coat. His hair not only accommodated a suffi-
cient quantity of mud, but was thickly entangled
with duck-weed, whilst strips of that dark-
green filth usually found in stagnant waters in
autumn, hung over his whole outward man.
JACK ASHORE. 189
The colonel turned his horse's head, and
cried, ** Home ! home !"
Jack turned also as suddenly, and riding
purposely up against him, added a little of
his slime to the already bespattered gentleman,
and heading him, and all the party, shouted
lustily, « No ! no P
There was hesitation.
^^ Blow my topsails into shreds, do ye call
this manly riding, lubber, that ye be ? While
in London, it was all very well to be like gilt
gingerbread in a fair ; but to show tail for a
little mud and water in the country, do ye call
that manly, and be d — d to ye ? Tell ye what
it is, my hearties — ^you're all volunteers — ^to
desert is downright mutiny ; and Til just pull
that man^s nose that don't sail the whole voyage
with me.*'
As Jack looked fierce and determined, every
one turned his horse's head, and Sir John,
ipurring through the group, again took the
lead.
140 JACK A8UORE.
it
Sir John Truepenny is Tery much excited,*
said Dcx^tor KilcumpiL
'< Oh, nothing extraordinary far him^" said
the colonel, with a smile of diabolical sigai«
cancy.
"Oh— hum I Ah! ha!*^
Jack rode forward a little while in silence,
shaking his sedgy locks like a sea god mounted
upon a hippopotamus. At length he reined up,
and placing himself beside the rector, he looked
into his round and rubied countenance with an
intense energy, then immediately relaxing his
features into a smile of the blandest insinuation,
he requested the loan of his reverence^s hat and
wig.
^^ My hat and wig, Sir John Truepenny ?
Impossible?"
** Really, my dear Doctor Canticle, I must
have them ; I ask upon christian grounds."
" Sir John ! Sir John !" shouted every one.
" I am quite bald,^ said the rector, not at
all liking the look of the advocate of christian
JACK A8HOBE. 141
principles. ^' My wig is clerical,' and my hat
is clerical, and would not at all harmonise with
the gay profanity of your dress."
" Call you this gay ?— Is this? — is this? —
Nay, look ye ,- my outward man is blackened
into humility ; verily, I am like a vessel tarred
all over with a tar of very deep blackness — I
beg your wig for charity's sake — ^and begging
the wig, you will, upon christian principles,
give the hat also — ^verily !**
^^ But verily I will not," snuffled out the
parson, now in great trepidation. ^* Thou
quotest the scriptures wrongly, and art thyself
a wrong-doer; I will abide no more in thy
society. What does the mad-brained sailor
mean ?^ The last sentence was commendably
inaudible.
Now changing his tone, Jack sang out, man-
of-war fashion, ^^ Come, belay all that — unship
your head-gear and that in the twinkling of
a star. Am I to sit here, in the middle of my
own estate, with my pole as bare as the breech
143 JACK ASHO&E.
of a gun with its apron off, whilst you, fat-
headed, word-spinning, gospel*twisting, amen-
singing, text-splitting son of a slush-tub, keep
jogging comfortably on, wigged like a mid-
shipman with a cribbed day's work, and hatted
like a coalheaver ? Unship, I say/'
But the worthy divine had pushed- forward*
and, clapping spurs to his horse, made off at full
speed. Sir John was after him in a moment,
and the rest of the company after both in full
cry. Jack soon came up with the chase, who
surrendered at discretion, threatening all man-
ner of actions at law, and punishments unlaw-
ful. Sir John, with an air of satisfaction,
placed the wig on his own head, and the hat on
the wig, and then rode on with a great deal of
holiness in his demeanour, whilst the rector
rode off with his silk handkerchief over his
skull, and tied under his chin, with very little
of holiness anywhere about him.
All present thought this, though a little mad,
a very humorous exploit; indeed, the curate
JACK A6HOEE. 148
told Sir John that the joke was quite attic; but
the curate was peculiarly gifted for appreciating
Jack's jokes, for the rector was above three-
score, drank and hunted bard, and the living
was at our hero's disposal.
It was now supposed that Sir John would
have been contented with this foolish exploit,
and have returned home, but nothing was fur*
ther from his purpose. He said that he fancied
himself excessively in his new head-dress* and
his sense of politeness would not permit him to
omit calling upon Lord Loftiput, the lord
lieutenant of the county, whose mansion they
were now fast approaching.
i\s he could not be prevailed on to change
his resolution, every one, except the colonel,
declined accompanying him; so Lady True-
penny rode homewards with a tolerably strong
escort, and Sir John and the colonel waited
upon the earL
Now, Colonel Chacehell had not been quite
so much bespattered as the rest of the com-
144 JACK ASHOBE.
pany. and had used all his art and care to rub
off the mud as fast as it had dried ; consequently
he was not altogether a fright, but certainly in
a very unfit state for a lady^s drawing-room.
Jack was filthy, and gloried in his filth.
We know that our hero could do only one of
two things— act in his own character, or mimic
that of some other ; and in mimicry he was not to
be surpassed. But he was already at the door
of the drawing-room before he had made up
his mind which character he should assume.
Sir John was announced ; and as his strange
story, with the usual exaggerations of a strange
story, had previously heralded him, there was
no little interest in the earl's family to see what
manner of man he might be. The countess
and her five showy daughters, and her four
sons, with some visiters, were all assembled in
the best drawing-room, with the earl, to im-
press Jack with a due sense of their own im«
portance, and to estimate his.
Just as the doors of the room wei^ flung
JACK A SHORE. 145
Open, Sir John decided not to be himself, but,
as he had on Doctor Canticle^s wig and hat, to
put on also so much of his clerical character as
he had discovered, when he attempted to dis-
guise the sportsman with the parson's cassock.
But this was so small a specimen to act by,
that Jack was obliged to eke out the assump-
tion with something methodistical ; so, drawing
down his jaws, and casting his eyes up to the
ceiling, he entered the room, closely followed by
Colonel Chacehell.
Jack spoke not, but, advancing slowly into
the middle of the apartment, stood bolt up-
right, with his toes turned well in, his hands
folded across his breast, and with his two
thumbs slowly revolving round each other. He
had made-up his features into a stony rigidity,
excepting at the corners of his half-closed eyes,
where were nestled whole clusters of little
laughing imps. This pew metamorphosis, ac-
customed as was the colonel to Jack's freaks,
astonished even him.
VOL. Ill* H
146 JACK ASHORE.
The /earl and the colonel were known to each
other.
*< We have met with an accident this morn-
ing, which must excuse our appearance ; but
Sir John Truepenny was so eager and so
anxious to pay his duty to your lordship, that
we determined to do so instanter^ trusting that
your lordship would excuse the effects of our
little mishap.''
*' Don't mention it, Colonel Chacehell, don't
mention it ; and this is the famous Sir John
Truepenny ?"
'^ The famous Sir John Truepenny !" said
the colonel, with an ambiguous grin.
The earl bowed low — Jack leisurely took
off his shovel hat, and bowed much more
lowly — so low indeed, that his, or rather Doctor
Canticle's, wig fell off, and disclosed his own
powder-and-mud plastered hair richly bedecked
with duck-weed. The ladies, not excepting
the stately countess, were tortured with sup«
pressed laughter, whilst all the gentlemen gave
JACK ASHORE* 147
free vent to their mirtb. Jack did not allow
his face the play of a single muscle, but placing
his toe in the wig, he lifted it with his foot to
hia left hand, and then with his right began to
belabour it, as if it had been sensible to chas<*
tisement.
After this whimsical ceremony, he placed it
again on his head, considerably awry; then^
drawling out his words, he exclaimed, '' I am
now under the protection of the church, nay,
I am as a folded lamb^ I am beneath the pent-
house of the temple, and in safety will I sit
down among the scoiTers.''
Having thus ejaculated, he flung his bemired
person on one of the rich damask sofas, to the
utter dismay of the countess, and the infinite
mirth of her daughters.
The earl and Colonel Chacehell whispered
each other aside.
** Mad or drunk ?'* said the former.
** Neither wholly one nor the other, but con-
siderably both,** was the reply.
H 2
148 JACK ASHOBE.
In endeavouring to draw out Sir John in
conversation, that genius proved excessively
shy. Whenever he stumbled on a sea-phrase,
he would stop short and commit some con-
venticle impiety, with a very sanctimonious
look. He spoke of having received glimpses
of the new light, of having been lately stuck
fast in the slough of Despond, of his rescue
from thence, of his pursuit of grace, and how
the personification of it, in the appearance of
Doctor Canticle, had fled from him — ^how he
had overtaken it, and how he had transferred
all the human and divine grace the rector ever
possessed to his own individuality, when he
appropriated to himself his hat and wig.
Sir John then complimented the earl upon
his great christian humility, the countess upon
her want of worldly ostentation, and the young
ladies upon the humble simplicity of their
dress ; said something quite touching upon the
honest manliness of the young honourables, and
was absolutely pathetic on the high moral cha«
. JACK ASHORE. 149
racier and chaste and immaculate conduct of
the colonel. All this was done with a stolid
gravity that no repartee could shake. Indeed,
all present were at a loss to know if all this
was the outpouring of foolishness, or if he did
not make his apparent folly the cloak for the
most bitter sarcasms.
Nor did he confine his annoyances to words.
He did all the damage that he could — soiled
every chair that he could get near, threw down
vases, and overturned work-tables. At last, the
countess, fearing the complete devastation of
her best furniture, abruptly left the room, fol*
lowed by her sons and daughters, and the earl
suddenly remembered a very important en-
gagement.
« Well,** said Jack, " FU edify with you
another time. I did intend, to-day, to take pot-
luck with you, as one Christian should with
another, without fuss, without hypocrisy — in
humbleness of spirit —in soberness, in temper-
ance—serene in faith, discoursing of good
150 JACK A8H0EE.
work«t We could have sent for Doctor Can-
ticle— he would have come in a new wig, briog-
ing with him new light — it is impossible to say
to what an extent, then, we might have carried
our holiness. But another time^ brother Chris-
tian ; I know that your modesty is hurt by
addressing you with the vain titles of pr€>-
fane pride ; so, brother Christian, farewelL**
We need not say that the most positive orders
were given never again to admit Sir John True*
penny on the premises.
Jack and the colonel rode towards home, side
by side, for some time in silence, each eyeing
the other rather suspiciously. At length tbe
colonel spoke.
" Truepenny, you donH play your game
well"
^^ Ah ! my water-wagtail— but you know I
never game.^
*^ Well, then, frankly, the more are you to
be pitied. You want a generous excitement— >
a gentlemanly occupation — really your stagna*
JACK ASHORE. 151
tion of intellect does your mind harm. You
wandered strangely, and acted most absurdly,
before the earL He has cut you — dead !"
" You don't say so ?"
^^ And now I am on the subject, as your
friend— on my honour as your friend — I tell
you that all this day you have been guilty of
extravagances that would have locked up a
person of less acknowledged sense in a mad-
house I repeat, Truepenny, you don^t play
your game well.*'
" Colonel, do I play yours f**
This was said with a harsh startling voice,
that for a moment shook the coloneFs nerves ;
but, recovering on the instant, he said, witk
cool impudence, " Probably you do."
^' I should like to know what are the
stakes?^ said Jack, relapsing again into his
usual careless manners. ** Though I will not
game with you — though you think you are
making me, in spite of myself, game /or you-—
either with cards or dice, game I will not —
152 JACK ASHORK.
but I'll double the bet on the steeple-chaae
that we are to ride.''
^'No, no, one hundred guineas are more than
I can afford to lose, and just about as much as
I should like to win of you, as I certainly
shaU.**
** I will bet two hundred to one, if you will
let me choose the ground.^
^^ Indeed I shall not, my salt-sea fire-eater.
I will dare anything that horse and man can
do — but you are no judge of a horse^s power,
and have no eye for distance — witness the
filthy pond this morning. Besides, I am not
married unsuccessfully, and I do game suc-
cessfully — so a broken neck would be no
relief to me. Any of the neighbouring gentle-
men shall select the ground, and I will ride
the race with you as soon as you like.'*
" Well, the day after to-morrow. To-mor-
row we are to try the covers."
" Agreed. Play or pay. You understand.
Sir John, that nothing must prevent the stakes
JACK A8H0EB. 153
being paid by the loser^ whether the loser ride
the race or not — accidents, sickness — nothing.
It is all a risk, and these are the chances that
make it***
^* I'm up to a little, though I have not
served my time to it, like you — I understand
all that"
**And I am to have the choice of the
horses ?"
" Understood."
Nothing remarkable occurred until Sir John,
his lady, and a few guests, sate down to dinner.
Our hero, as if to redeem his character from
the absurdities he had displayed in the morn-
ing, was particularly quiet in his demeanour,
and in his manners displayed the well-bred,
thouj^ not the highly-bred gentleman. His
visiters, who had heard of his mad exploits
of the morning, were pleased and astonished
at his correct behaviour in the evening.
The colonel always detested these fits of pro-
priety, and continually attempted to provoke
H 5
154 JACK ASHORB*
him into extravaguice — this night, without
e£Pect.
The repast was in full progress when the
Honourable Mr. Erasmus Muskrat arrived in
a postchaise and four. He was an utter
stranger to Sir John ; but as an under-secretary
of state, and the confident of the minister^ he
doubted not of a gracious reception. He was
not disappointed. Jack would hear nothing
about business until he had dined — and when
they had dined, until they had wined — and when
they had wined, until the gentlemen had de>
parted— *and then, as Jack used to say, it was
grog time of day, and he was fit for that or
any other work that required judgment and
deliberation.
Had we sufficient space, we should like to
give the whole conversation between the sailoi^
br^ baronet and the office*bred, sucking poli-
tician-r-for the sugared no-meaning suavity of
the one was finely relieved by the honest, manly
bluntness of the other.
JACK ASHORE. 155
He brought a letter from the minister, en-
closing one from bis cousin, Lord Fortintower,
asking Jack to influence the return of tbe Tory
candidate, Mr. Max. Sir Jobn told Mr.
Muskrat that he should stand himself. To this
tbe ambassador was pleased to say that he was
glad to hear it, as no doubt be beheld in Sir
John a supporter of those measures that
were upright and just, and those men who
were the bulwarks of the throne, the pillars
of the constitution, and the props of liberty,
&c &c.
Jack, in order to tease him, said, that of
course he should like to be one of these, but
that he intended to vote for Mr. Fox through
thick and thin. Erasmus Muskrat dropped his
glass in consternation — it was a false step — he
recovered himself and talked.
" Well," said Jack, " you seem to be a smart,
active young fellow enough" — for Jack chose
to be himself in an affair of so much moment —
** and I make no doubt but that you are a
156 JACK ASHOBE.
good mizen^top man spoiled, and that's more
than I can say in favour of one in a hundred of
the young foplings we meet about town. So
you shall stay here, at least till next Saturday,
when all the electors will dine with me. You
may then see what chance your friend has, for
it shall be a fair stand-up fight between us.
To-morrow we shoot, and the next day I ride
a steeple^race with the colonel — ^you won't want
amusement There are plenty of nice girls
round about, and a whole muster of them at
the Earl of Loftiput^s. People think me a strange
sample, but I have not yet made up my mind
what I'll be — so don't take anything odd amiss.
I would be the fine gentleman, did I not find
that they are all really such fools or such
rogues — at least all the fine gentlemen who
ever fell athwart my hause. To-morrow, as I
told you, we shoot — so, now, as I don't like to
encourage youngsters in drinking grog, you
may either go up to the ladies, or turn in.
You'll find yourself in good quarters, and the
JACK ASHORE. 157
only way in which you can do your master's
work will be by staying here, and seeing how
the land lies.''
** My master. Sir John Truepenny ! but
it is of no consequence — I see that you are
a humorist — so I^U wish you a good
night.**
Jack now ordered in his enemy, in the shape
of cold rum and water, and Groggy Foxhead
to be sent to him, if that worthy individual was
at all in a state to converse. As he was getting
sober for the third time that day, he presented
himself, and filling his tumbler, the two went
on to discuss their various matters. Groggy
Foxhead's account of the dogs was very
favourable, though, on purpose to show bis
knowledge and enhance his importance, he
made several profound professional remarks,
and spoke of putting a few of the canine race,
which he had already selected as his patients,
under a course of medicine. The horses were
next commented upon, and the knowing one
168 JACK ASHORE*
was pleased to compliment Sir John upon the
bottom and blood of his stud — they wanted a
little work, but altogether they were in exodleot
order. Much of a two hoars' conversation to
this effect was, as Jack expressed it, heathen
Greek to him, so he drank tumbler after turn*
bier of half-and-half, and won the rascal^s heart
by the implicit deference he paid to his judg-
ment.
The election business was soon discussed*
He had drunk with the greatest part of the
voters, and had made the discovery that, so
far from any other candidate than Sir John, or
one of Sir John's nomination, being returned,
if any person came down to oppose him,
there was not a house in the place that would
receive him, and the man would be very lucky,
should he escape the distinction of being
tarred and feathered.
Now Jack had entirely secured Groggy's
affection, not so much by his kindness as by
what he called his noble conduct in leaving the
JACK ASHORE. ]59
sole government of dogs and horses to him-
self.
Whenever the dog-fancier could afford it| or
could procure any one to afford it for him, he
would get as drunk every day, and as often as he
could. The first fit of inebriation was always
a jovial, the second a quarrelsome, and the last
a crying one. As these two enlightened in-
dividuals proceeded in their orgies. Groggy
became quite sentimental and lachrymose —
swore Sir John was a rigler trump^that h^
loved him as one of his own babbies — with
much more of similar blarney. We delight
not in cockney slang, nor do we wish to indite
whole pages of the patter of the rookery, or
the eloquence of the back slums — in all which
our caninely given friend was perfect, and out
of which he could not converse. However, he
made Jack understand that the colonel had
given him five guineas to make our hero so
dreadfully intoxicated on the morrow night,
160 JACK ASHORE.
that he would be totally incapacitated from
riding the steeple-race next day.
When Jack heard of this little sneaking piece
of villany, it sobered him a little — he thanked his
informant, told him, on pain of his displeasure,
to receive money from nobody in his house but
himself took a deep draught of cold water,
and, wishing his astute friend good night, re-
tired.
Groggy drank just so much as enabled him
to stagger to the bell-pull, when twisting it
round his left arm, with his right hand be
carried to his lips a tremendous goblet of rum
a little qualified with water, swaUowed it, and
had just sense enough left to throw the tum-
bler at a distance, so that he could not fall
upon it, when, as he had judiciously arranged,
down he tumbled insensible, the bell t>ang fu-
riously, and the servants came and carried him
to bed, as he had previously designed that
they should do. For getting drunk com-
JACK ASHORE. 161
fortably and systematically, nobody could
excel the renowned Groggy Foxhead, horse^
doctor^ dog-fancier, and professor in brute
medicine.
J 82 JACK ASUORB.
CHAPTER VIII.
Jack's first leeson in partridge-sfaooting^-Laiighed at by tba
colonel — Those lauf^h best who laugh last — Jack hita bis
mark, however, and tries his powers of consolation.
The next day was ushered in by a beautiful
morning. Sir John Truepenny, duly equipped
in sporting dress, accompanied by the colonel,
Mr. Erasmus Muskrat, two neighbouring
squires, with a posse of gamekeepers and
hangers on, set out about ten o'clock to try the
Fortintower covers. Groggy Foxhead was
also there, but was not promoted to the custody
of a gun.
Every one appeared in the best possible spi-
JACK ASHORE. I63
ritfly and the colonel first of all began the
banter, bj telling Jack not to fatigue himself
too much, as he had the important race to ride
the next day, and it was play or pay. Jack
took it all in good part, but carried his double-
barrelled gun so awkwardly that every one took
care to stand out of the way. Game was soon
started, and, as host, the preference of firing
was given him. Jack missed everything. He
chased the hares gun in hand instead of firing
at them, ran in upon the dogs, vociferated sea-
shoutSy floundered through hedges, disappeared
in ditches, tumbled head foremost down banks,
his gun going off right and left, as he rolled,
staggered, and stumbled along, in such a manner
that it was very evident, that however safe the
birds might be from his attempts, it was
likely he would shoot something.
The Honourable Mr. Erasmus Muskrat very
early took the alarm, and, pretending an intense
headache, returned to the Hall. But the
Nim^od spirit was too strong upon the rest of
164 JACK ASUORK.
the party to be deterred by a matter so trifling.
They contented themselves with swearing at
Sir John, ordering him here, there, and every-
where, out of their way. Jack fired on, but
with the same want of success. At length, he
actually lost his temper, or appeared to have
done so; spoke very contemptuously of throwing
away powder and shot upon such insignificant
animals as pheasants and partridges, and talked
heroically of shooting down Frenchmen. The
sportsmen only laughed at him, and pushed on,
whilst Jack' sullenly fell in the rear. Groggy
was always near him. Just as our hero left
the party, Colonel Chacehell shouted to him
that he had better go practise at a haystack at
twenty yards — but not to weary himself in the
action, for the sake of the morrow's race.
The party had entered a very close planta-
tion, and all the intervals between the trees
were filled with underwood, more than breast
high, admitting scarcely a pheasant through
them. This cover abounded with birds, and
the firing was almost incessant.
JACK ASHOSE. 165
Being now considerably behind the rest,, and
quite out of the fray. Groggy remarked to Sir
John that his hand was out.
*^ And yet/* said Jack, ** with musket and
ball, I could beat any man on board. Often
standing with the small-arm men on the poop,
I have hit a bottle the first time, hung at the
end of the fore-yard arm. I suppose it's all prac-
tice. I wish I had a mark."
" No, no— fire at something alive, master —
or at least something in motion. Just lend
me your popper, and stay where you are."
With Sir John's gun his friend disappeared,
but in a few minutes returned with a pheasant
that he had brought down. Both the barrels
were again loaded, and the gun returned to our
hero.
** Now, Sir John, you shall practise at this
bird— but we must make it natVal as life— you
fire too soon — when I says fire, bang you go,
and no nonsense — but come in the cover— if
you should see anything alive, go it at that
166 JACK XSHORE*
doa't fire higher than a man's hips. In this
close cover, a pellet or two of number six
might find its way through a very soft skull.
Now be steady, there's a good Sir John.
1*11 keep about twenty yards before you —
remember the bottle at the fore-yard arm C'
— and the dog-fancier looked almost too
sly for a mortal. He led the way into the
cover. Jack following with his gun at the make-
ready of the manual exercise. When they
came at what we must suppose Groggy deemed
a convenient place for practice, he flung the
pheasant into the air. Jack presented — and
when on its descent it had almost reached the
ground, the dog-fancier cried out *^ fire 1" and
Jack slapped off his piece, lliree cries w&e
heard simultaneously.
** Hit him at last l** roared Jack.
' ** Bravo 1 hurrah I" shouted Groggy.
^^ Damnation ! I am injured for life— a sur-
geon, a surgeon,^' shrieked out the colonel.
All within hearing converged round the
JACK ASHORE. 167
wounded sportsmaD, Jack not forgetting to
carry, boastingly, the pheasant in his hand.
** Where is your hurt — where, where?' was
the general sympathising query. The nume-
rous holes, and the little streams of blood
oozing from them, in that part of the dress
which covers the human frame just below the
back^ and above the thighs, plainly indicated.
The next inquiry was, " Who did it ?** Jack
showed his bird, and Groggy volunteered his
attestations that it could not be our hero. No
more was thought of shooting that day; a
hurdle was procured, and the colonel, being
placcid upon it, was borne in an uneasy state to
the mansion. During this procession Jack
walked on one side of the hurdle, acting the
part of condoler. He observed that there was no
certain danger— -merely flesh wounds — that the
shot should all be carefully picked out one by
one, even if he were obliged to stand by and
see to it — he rather thought he would, for the
friendship he bore him. If one of the pellets
168 JACK ASHORE.
should unfortunately be left in, the conse-
quences would be dangerous — most likely fatal
— considering the life he had led, and his
miserably rank state of body. He had seen
wounds made by canister shot— surgeon too lazy
to pick out all the little bits — always mortified
when left in ;—- -yes, he would stand by and see
every shot extracted — and so should good and
careful Groggy Foxhead. That would be
some consolation to all of them. He supposed
the colonel would not ride the race to-morrow.
He was sorry that it was play or pay — but it
was the colonel's own stipulation — but what
were the hundred guineas ? — nothing.
In this amiable strain our friend indulged ;
but the colonel was ungrateful, and returned
all this kindness only with groans, curses, half-
uttered threats of vengeance, and vilifications
of his own folly for going shooting with a mad
sea-brute. But Jack^s temper was not to be
ruffled by his graceless conduct— he was more
bland than ever, and assured the sufierer that
JACK ASHORE. 169
the bird that he had just killed should be
reserved for his especial eating the moment
that his medical adviser would permit him such
an indulgence.
VOL. Ifl.
170 lACX ASHORE.
CHAPTER IX.
Contains only the report of an election dinnei^May there-
fore be passed over as commonplace.
The next day, amidst a splendid field of
gentlemen, Jack walked over the ground and
won the race, whilst the colonel lay, in agony
of body and anguish of mind, upon his uneasy
bed. Sir John had been unwittingly correct in
his prognostics; the numerous wounds festered,
and, at one time, the colonel was in great danger.
No shooting, no hunting, no racing ; lassitude,
ennui, and a hateful temperance, were now the
detested lot .of this fashionable character.
No one would go into the covers with Sir John,
excepting Groggy and his gamekeepers; but
our hero soon learned how to shoot flying, and
became an expert shot ; and he never failed, at
JACK ASHORE. 171
the end of his day^s sport, of being found at
the bedside of the wounded, with all his tro-
phies vainglorious upon himself. Colonel
Chacehell was actually tortured.
The Honourable Erasmus Muskrat had
given a faithful account of all these proceedings,
and a very fair character of Jack, to the mi-
nister, and the latter requested him to remain
at the Hall until after the dinner, and said that
Mn Max should make his appearance the day
before at Fortintower.
By some means or other, Sir John was well
informed of all that had taken and was to take
place ; so» at the hour Mr. Max's arrival was ex-
pected, he and Groggy disguised themselves as
two small farmers, and in a borrowed chaise-cart
went into the little town. They were not recog-
«
nised.
Punctually to the appointed time, Mr. Max
arrived in a chaise and four, bis servant and
the postilions wearing orange favours. Never
did a candidate meet with a worse reception.
I 2
172 JACK ASHORE.
Every inn and public-bouse refused to take
him in, and be drove from place to place
amidst the derision of the mob. At length
from laughter the rabble proceeded to abuse,
and from abuse to petty acts of annoyance. Nor
Vtrere there wanting some of the better sort who
subjected him to worse behaviour. Finally, the
horses were stopped, and Mr. Max seized, with
the avowed intention of carefully dragging him
through a very dirty horsepond.
At this crisis Jack and Crroggy interfered,
and showed fight ; they succeeded in rescuing
the candidate, and placing him in the cart, and
shouting to the postilions to follow with the
chaise, they made off.
Mr. Max was profuse in acknowledgments,
and brimful of gratitude, and, offering the
apparent countrymen money, was a little sur-
prised at the laughing manner in which it was
refused. When they were well out of the town.
Sir John told Groggy to take the chaise-cart
home, and intimated his intention to Mr. Max
to step with him into his chaise. The gentle-
JACK ASHORE. 173
man demurred a little to this, which much
amused, but a good deal more angered. Jack.
" What's in the wind now ?" said he.
** Why, look ye, my good friend, it is
true that you have rendered me much service,
and I am not only willing but desirous to repay
you for it ; and still more so, as you have pro*
mised to take me to a place where I may be
hospitably received, and my people taken care
of.**
^^ And so I will; make yourself easy upon
that score.**
** Now just, my fine fellow, make the obliga-
tion perfect — there is room for you in the dickey
beside my valet — a very superior person, I
assure you. Don't be alarmed at him — he is
not at all proud, and will, I am sure, be quite
condescending."
** Why, if you particularly wish it, I will ;
but you were glad enough to bundle your deli-
cate limbs into my cart half an hour ago.*^
^* But, my man, we must not confound the
orders of society."
174 JACK ASHORE.
" Very well — here you — drive alcmg the road
to the left till you come to a long rustic lodge,
and then go smack up to the hall."
^* Florimel, be dvil to this good fellow, will
you ?" said Mr. Max, stepping into his carriage,
which immediately after drove on. Florimel,
obeying his master after the manner of valets,
was very conceited and impertinent to Sir John
on the dickey, so that Sir John threatened him
with a wopping when they alighted, and Flori-
mel threatened Sir John with bis master.
When the equipage passed the gates of the
beautiful lodge, the keeper only stared at the
person in the carriage, but taking off his hat,
he bowed low to the dickey; whereupon th^
valet plumed himself excessively, and grew
intolerably conceited. Arrived at the haU>
door, the well-appointed footmen and the major-
domo were eager to attend to the convenient
alighting of those behind, nor thought at all of
the inside passenger. Mr. Florimel swelled at
this with fresh consequence, which made his
JACK ASHOKE. 175
mortification the greater at being unceremo-
niously thrust aside by the servants, and all the
coyeted assistance bestowed upon his despised
companion.
Mr. Max was painfully shocked at his own
conduct, when the man who he thought was
hardly good enough to be the companion of his
servant, welcomed him as his guest at Fortin-
tower Hall.
But now we have no time to dilate on all
these things — no time to tell how Mr. Max
was so much ashamed, that it was with difficulty
•
he could be persuaded to accept of Sir John's
hospitality, and how much more difficult it was
to induce him to become his opponent —
nor how glad Mr. Erasmus Muskrat was to
see Mr. Max,*and what excellent political plans
they digested together. We must pass over all
this rapidly, and give only a faint outline
of the famous election dinner.
All the voters obeyed the call — not one was
absent ; lameness was no impediment, age no
176 JACK ASHORE.
excuse, illness no detriment. They were all
there. It was a day of surprises to them all.
Jack acted well that day, and mimicked to the
life the courtly and bland style of the Earl of
Loftiput. He was quite as empty and inane —
excepting when his natural character broke
forth in spite of himsdf. The guests had seen
nothing of their host, but had heard much.
His extravagant freaks had been made more ex-
travagant ; of a verity, such odd tales had been
circulated respecting him, that they would not
have been astonished if he had received them
standing upon his head — indeed, they rather
expected it.
They were surprised at seeing so perfect a
gentleman — they could not distinguish the
mimic from the real. They were surprised at
the aristocratic splendour of the feast — they
were surprised at the exuberant beauty of Lady
Truepenny — they were surprised at her sullen
and ungracious deportment towards the baronet,
and her suavity and affability towards every
JACK ASHORE. 177
one else— and they were infinitely surprised to
find the man who had been turned from all
their doors, and to whom they had intended
the honours of the horsepond, sitting a favoured
guest at their landlord'^s table, cherished by
him, and smiled upon softly by his wife. But
their surprise did not diminish their appe-
tites, until their appetites had diminished the
luxuries, which in turn at last diminished their
appetites, so that they had leisure again to be
surprised; and there was plenty of occasion
offered them for it.
When the cloth was removed, the borough-
reeve, who was the malster and brewer of the town,
rose, and in a speech that, with all our leniency,
we cannot call neat, proposed the health of Sir
John Truepenny, their future representative.
Why need we say anything about the applauee,
the stamping of feet, and the rattling of glasses
that followed ? The applauders were all tenants
at will, consequently approvers at wish.
Jack rose, and ridding himself of the con-
I 6
178 JACK ASUOEK.
ventional ^mace of the character be had heen
mimicking, he stood before (hem in the simple
character of a brother man, and spoke to them
thus.
*^ Countrymen and brother subjects— I, as a
British born and bred seaman, scorn to show
myself under false colours. My worthy and
too-much-neglected friend there* Mr. Single*
heart, that kindly looking gentleman, thafs
blushing up to the eyes— honeat-hearted man
that he is — ^haa told me a few things that I
ought to do, and that you ought to do — I'U do
what I ought, and take care that you do so
also. Well, my beavUes, the first broadside
that I shall give you, will be to tell you, that
you have shown yourselves, in one instance, all
of you, from the skipper to the swabwasher —
and you may settle who^s who among you — a set
of snivellingf dirty, lickspittle sonsof your&thers
and mothers^ who, it is to be fervently hoped,
were better than yourselves — ^because why, you
treated this gentleman with inhospitality, and
JACK ASUOKE. 179
in a manner that would disgrace a parcel of
Hottentots-*as if that would be the right way
to curry favour with me, and be d d to you,
— ^me, who has fit under a flag, the flag-staiF of
which the best of you ain't worthy to touch.
Well, I see that you are all confoundedly chop-
£edlen; your faces look Kke so many ape's
pouches, and so it should be touching this here
matter. Now mind ye, my jollies, I am't a
word to say against you excepting for this here
scrimmage— dare say you are all excellent men
in your own way — good husbands*-gppd fathers
— careful tradesmen — and you go to church or
meeting regularly, strike a balance with the
angel Gabriel, and thus keep your accounts
clear for the next world, though your books
may be a little blotted in this — worthy men
no doubt you all are, and very dutiful to your
wives. Now I suspect, in the first place, that
yon^ll ask ' Mr. Max^s pardon, and then we'll
all proceed to business in the most friendly
manner possible.**
180 JACK ASHORE.
The respectable constituency of the borough
of Fortintower were clamorous, as with one
voice, in expressing their sorrow for what had
occurred, and each was proposing to deny that,
individually, he had had any participation in the
outrage ; but M n Max lifted up his voices and
said, ^* That there was no offence committed at
all — that he looked upon it as a pleasant joke ;**
at which Jack's fist fell thunderingly on the
table, and he demanded silence.
" Gentlemen,^ said he, " I love sincerity.
Mr. Max has said that you have not offended
him, therefore you have nothing to be sorry for
-—and that your pelting him with mud and
filth was only a pleasant joke. Infamal sorry
am I that I interfered — but you know how,
gentlemen, to receive him pleasantly the next
time that he comes among you. I did not
before know that the candidate and the con-
stituency fitted as cleverly as the fid fits the heel
of the topmast. What I have to say to you,
my good people, is this — vote according to the
JACK ASHORE. 181
little conscience that the tyranny of your former
landlords and your habits of trade may have
left you. I will not be such an ass as to affect
the grand, and bribe you to vote against me ;
but if ever I find a man among you that votes
for me to curry my favour, if I have strength
enough in me I'll curry his hide — or my name's
not Jack Truepenny."
Vociferous applause, and the imbibing of
much wine to the toast of ** Our Landlord and
Independence,'^ followed this announcement.
Jactc resumed by saying, that ^* Mr. Max
would tell them why he should be their mem«
ber if he could, and that would save him the
trouble of future canvass.***
Mr. Max rose gracefully, and made a first-
rate speech. After he had told them that they
were the most high-minded, the most inde-
pendent, and the most worthy of constituents
in the world, and that he was utterly unworthy
in himself to be the representative of such
virtue and magnanimity, he very consistently
182 JACK ASHORE.
and boldly asked them to make him so. We
would giye his eloquent oration at full length,
had it not been printed a thousand times in all
the journals that ever reported an election
speech. The sum of it was, that if thej re-
turned him as their member, a consummation
of bliss but little short of the millenium would
come upon the face of the earth. The aspirant
sat down amidst unanimous cheering, and Sir
John Truepenny rose and said —
** You haye heard Mr. Max's yarn — ^it was
weU spun, and fit for gammoning anything
but a bowsprit or an old sailor. Take it for
just as much as it is worth, and if you find that
you have got it too cheap a bargain, give him
back the fag-endsr Now, I differ from him
altogether — in toto oBlOy as my Latin master
used to say ; which I take to meaoy that there is
about as many truths in his speech as seals have
toes. Why I come my learning over you is
this — Mr. Max gave you some Ijatin quota-
tions, which he knew you did not understand,
JACK ASHOmE. 188
and I have given you one also, just to show
you that I and Mr. Max are, aa regards Latin,
much of a muchness* My nien» I have bad
masters^ and Grod's blessing go with them.
My opponent has told you of what impor-
tance you are ; now I don't think you are of
much consequence^ He spoke to you about up.
holding your glorious constitution; now I think
you know no more about it than I do» and
that's about as much as the cat>-he«d knows
about the compass^ You know nothing about
the balance of power» political economy, the
circulating medium, or the Catholic emancipa*
tion — no more do I ; and, between you and me,
it would be well for us all if other people, the
big wigs, didn't fancy they knew more — that^s
Jack's notion. I know nothing about legisla*
tion, or about anything that I read of in the
papers, that people make speeches about in par-
liament. So I tell you what it is — there is al-
ready too much knowledge there — too much
184 JACK ASHORE.
gift of the gab — there wants a little plain
honesty, just to make them remeniber there is
such a thing; and if you make me your mem-
ber, I'll take it there. I'll just go there as the
poor man'^s friend — ^if I can't speak for him, 1^11
set up a shout that shall startle the proudest
and laziest among them. • On matters that I
don't understand I won't vote^ and upon those
I do, I'll vote for the upright thing — the
straight course, and scorn tack and half*tack
where I can make my port by plain sailing.
Now, my jollies, when the time comes, vote ac-
cording to your consciences, and then, if you
don't send up the best parliament man, the
Lord will forgive your ignorance ; but if you
vote upon any mean and shabby motive, may
the devil ride you pickaback with his' best
spurs on. So no more of this at present. We*H
now be as merry as mudlarks round the grog-
tub, and, under Providence, get gloriously
fuddled."
JACK ASHORE. 185
And so they did, and the Honourable Mr.
Erasmus Muskrat and his friebd departed the
next morning for town, with only the smallest
possible portion of hope for success at the en-
suing election.
186 JACK A6H0SE.
CHAPTER X.
Sbowetb how to get up • deputation, aod bow to get it well
off ; and also how well to answer it — How to make the wind
fair — Sound steeple doctrine — How to receiTe a deputa-
tion, and what to expect for dinner on a banjran day.
There were very great doings anticipated at
Fortintower on the approach of Christmas.
There was to be the usual subscription -ball, at
which it was expected that the strength of the
two contending political parties would display
itself; and that Sir John, Lady Truepenny,
and their guests, would show in all their glory
for the first time.
In consequence, the large room at the Fortin*
tower Arms was repaired, furbished up, and
rurally decorated. Tickets were at a premium,
JACK ASHOEE. 187
and it was firmly believed that the proud and
form-entrenched family of the Earl of Loftiput
would condescend at least to be a spectator of
the scene, if they would not so far bumble them-
selves as to participate in the dance. The mere
shopocracy were never admitted on similar occa-
sions, unless the aspirants to the honour of pay-
ing their half-guineas for the privilege of being
looked down upon by the squirearchy had
some redeeming qualities. But the then state
of the country made these exceptions very
numerous. England was threatened with inva*
don, and loyalty was at blood-heat. AU the
yeomanry of the district were admissible by
virtue of their horses and their military accou-
trements ; and the united Fortintower, Furie-
bushton, and Miredoun volunteers, being, so
far as they were soldiers, gentlemen, had also
the right of entr^. How far this was — as they
themselves were too discreet to avow — we shall
not be too scrupulous in endeavouring to certify.
The barber and his lady were certainly with-
188 JACK ASMOKE.
out this social and sacred pale of respectability
as touching the poll and the basin, but most
certainly within it by the poising of the hal-
berd ; as Mr. Nicholas Needleham, though he
condescended to divorce the stubble from the
chins of the whole community for a generously
trifling remuneration, had still, when in full
uniform, a great command. On parade days,
he was like the Roman centurion, only much
more lofty in his bearing ; for did he not say
to any one of his tens and his twenties, ** Gt>,
and he goeth ;" do this, and (if he could) he
did it.
Very many in Mr. Needleham^s class were
similarly situated. Indeed, the half-guinea ap-
peared to be the only barrier ; that surmounted,
the assembly room at the Fortintower Arms
was as accessible as the sea : a simile the merits
of which few will go deep enough to discover.
Deputations are very nice little pastimes for
little people. They are much cherished by
all the worshippers of rank, and a very pleasant
JACK A8HOBE. 189
contrivance for shuffling on a suit of second-
hand dignity. The two lawyers of the place,
agreeing for once to lay aside their private and
their political animosity, uniting with the bo-
rough-reeve, called a meeting of the principal
inhabitants of Fortintower, in order to consider
the propriety of waiting upon Sir John True-
penny in due form, to request that he would do
them and the respectability of the town, which
they affirmed that they represented, the honour
of permitting himself to be named one of the
stewards on the momentous and solemn occasion
of the ensuing ball.
The proposition was strongly debated, over
beer as strong as were the various arguments ;
which arguments being all on one side, the chair-
man, without much difficulty, came to the .very
just conclusion, that, in the opinion of the meet-
ing, it was proper that a deputation should
be formed of all then and there present, or a
majority of them, or any part of them, and that
they should proceed to Fortintower Hall, and
190 JACK ABHOES.
carry out manfully the very intents, in letter and
spirit, of the resofutiGfiis thus so unanimously'
passed*
It was next suggested that a respectful letter
should be addressed to Sir John, requesting
him to state on what particular day, and at what
particular hour of what particular day, he
would be pleased to receive the members of the
deputation. This suggestion was acted upon
immediately after a Uttle difficulty had been
disposed of, as to who was the proper person to
compose and pen the humble request. Either
of the two lawyers was, professionally and
through habit, physically incapable of perform-
ing this little affair ; as the not receiving six
shillings and eightpence for the job would press
so heavily upon their circulation as to threaten
apoplexy. Yet no other person present would
do it ; and it would, perhaps, have for ever re-
mained undone^ had not the exciseman found
out a clever process to conquer the conscientious
and professional scruples of the two legal func-
tionaries.
JACK ASHORE. 191
This person gauged the matter thoroughly,
and then requested the whig lawyer to make
out a rough draft of the letter; and for so doing,
made the tory lawyer, on behalf of the meeting,
hand him over the customary six and eightpence.
When this draft was finished, he desired the
tory lawyer to make a fair copy from it ; and
when this was completed, he ordered the whig
lawyer to hand over, in like manner, the
same six and eightpence to the tory. What a
very excellent method of paying opposing
lawyers ! Would that it were both the legal
and the general practice !
The letter was despatched to its destination ;
and as the distaMe that it had to travel was
not great, most of the meeting loitered about
the place, awaiting the expected answer. They
had searedy time to consume sundry measures
df the infufdon of malt, and ta become impa-
tient, when the messenger made his re-appear-
ance, a good deal astonished, and not a little
overheated. He informed the gentlemen that
192 JACK ASHORE.
he was ushered into the presence of Sir John,
whom he found among his pigsties, in earnest
conversation with his blackguard Achates,
Groggy Foxhead, and they were in the philo-
sophical act of experimentalising upon the
ebriety of the swinish population, by mixing
with their wash a large proportion of strong
grog. The noise was hideous, and the antics of
the animals very exhilarating to Jack and his
friend. Bad as was this conduct, it was a very
humane study in philosophy, compared with the
experiments that have been so much lauded,
made upon living animals, by the first surgeons
in Europe.
The man with the letter was very civilly re-
quested to take a place at the trough ; which
politeness he declined, on the very reasonable
plea that there was but barely room for Sir
John and his companion. He then delivered
the letter, and received for answer, that ** he
was to tell the deputation, in a pig's whisper,
that they would be received by Sir John the
JACK ASHORE. 193
first time that it rained hard, and the wind was
to the southward, at grog time of day.
Not being able to procure a more wholesome
answer — for, as Hamlet averred of himself,
Jack's wits were just then diseased — the messen-
ger retired, not without some horrible appre-
hensions of being forced to swallow a great
portion of the filthy mess that was intoxicating
the swine. However, he escaped to tell his tale.
Whereupon the meeting went again into fierce
debate upon when it was likely that the wind
would be to the southward ; as to the rain, it
being November, and they in England, they had
but few fears on that head. As to grog time
of day, they very wisely took that to intimate
just the time that Sir John was wont to sit
down to dinner.
So they broke up, and each went his way,
vehemently sighing for a south wind.
On the very next morning, no sooner was
there sufficient light to discern objects, than the
night-capped heads of the two lawyers, of the
VOL. III. K
194 JACK ASHORE.
publican, of the exciseman, and of almost every
memba* of the meeting of die day before, were
thrust forth into the raw atmo^here, with eyes
intently devout upon the weathercock of the
steeple of the church. The mad had veered
one point towards the desired quarter, and each
of the gazers dressed himself with alacrity, and
repaired to breakfast in so beneficent a humour,
that the coming of he millennium did not seem
quite BO apocryphal as usuaL
Without meaning it. Jack waaa great plague
to his neighbours. Before noon the wind had
got due south, but it would not rain. Though
the wet would not fall, the hopes of the deputa*
tion did ; and with their prospects of a feast at
the hall, their good tempers disappeared. Their
wives and their families could not comprehend
them at all. They all talked mysteriously
about the wind and rain. The whole thirteen
began to be regarded by their neighbours with
queer suspicions. They were discreet men, and
kept the secret, for they did not like to place
themselves under the ban of ridicule; for they
JACK ABHOBE. 196
suspected that Jack was laughing at them a
little, so they affected mystery and wisdom, and
went on raving about the wind and rain.
Indeed, the heavens were very unpropitious,
for it set in with a hard frost and a north->east
wind for three days, and the time fixed for the
ball was fast approaching. The peofde of the
place began seriously to inquire what the cele-
brated meeting had or had not done« and when
they would go up as a deputation* '* Tell me
how the wind is, and I'll give you an answer,"
was the usual reply. From all these premises,
the burghers came to the conclusion that they
had not entrusted the management of this very
grave matter to any superfluity of wisdom.
Not to have the baronet and their landlord in-
vited, would be almost as bad as the loss of their
charter, which was granted them by Richard I.
in a jargon of Norman French, dog Latin, and
piebald Saxon, that no one could ever com-
prehend, and therefore every one put upon it
the construction that best suited him.
k2
196 JACK ASHORE.
At length the frost gave way to a gustj
rainy -day ; indeed, there was wind enough to
disperse the water, and water enough to drown
the wind; and how they contrived to exist
together, no one but a very wise philo80(dier
could telL There was certainly more wind than
any of the good citizens wanted, but it was not
from the right quarter. What was to be done?
The exciseman cut the matter short.
The weathercock at the top of the church
steeple told a monstrous elemental lie. It was
very shocking for an instrument so elevated to
be guilty of such a barefaced falsehood, espe-
cially when we consider that the whole town
went by the church ; but there was a secret
influence so well applied, in the shape of a wedge,
that if the wind had howled forth in a perfect
hurricane, that he was Boreas himself, the impu-
dent weathercock was determined to announce^
coolly and fixedly, in the face of all the world,
that his name was Auster, and nothing else.
This we call consistency, and is a very excellent
quality both in weathercocks and politicians;
JACK ASHORE. 197
in the latter the more especially when they have
received their wedge.
. So, well coated, cloaked, muffled up, and
with a glorious spread of umbrella, the ex-
ciseman called forth, in his turn, each shivering
member of the deputation of thirteen, gravely
assuring them, upon the highest ecclesiastical
authority, that the wind was due south, whilst
the northern blast was giving him and them
the direct lie to their faces, and in a manner so
cutting, that they evinced much heroism in
standing out against it.
Indeed, some of the thirteen demurred ; but
these scruples were speedily overruled, when
they were told that any hesitation in believing
the evidence of the church would involve
them in the guilt of heresy. This was dread-
ful, and by all means to be avoided. So the
doubters smothered their dubitations in a more
strict enfolding of their cloaks, looked at the
steeple, shivered, and walked on towards the
198 JACK ASHORE.
Hall, firmly resolved to maintain, against all
opponents, that the wind was due South.
Now Fortintower Hall was a large and im-
posing looking mansion, with four turrets, one
at each of its comers, with a pinnacle on each
turret, and, when Sir John took possessioD of
the Hall, each pinnacle possessed its own
weather-cock. With very few exceptions, the
unanimity of these weather-cocks was won-
derful, and their agreement with thdr brother
on the church steeple was admirable. No
diversity of opinion — no heterodoxy.
But Sir John affected not these cocks. They
swang round heavily, and in gusty weather
groaned and grated mournfully — and to the
lightest breezes they were sometimes so uncom-
plying as not to turn at all. So Jack quickly un-
shipped them all, and placed in their stead four
dog^vanes. What a dog-vane is, I am a dog
if I tell — he who is so little instructed on that
point is not worth instructing. However, on
JACK ASUOBB. 199
the tops of the turrets there were the dog-
vanesy and merrily and friskily they veered
about, and would very often box the compass
before the old cock on the top of the church
steeple could get to north and by east-half-
east.
The rain fell in torrents as the thirteen
expectants of a superb dinner, and wines to
them unknown, plodded their plashy way
towards the HalL The two lawyers headed
the procession, and the rest of the deputation
huddled themselves as closely together as a
flock of frightened sheep. They passed the
lodges shivering, and as they did so, they
could not avoid seeing a very ominous smile on
the countenance of the old keeper. This smile
provoked Amos Ames, the astute exciseman,
to hold up his fist menacingly, which had no
other effect than changing the palpable grin
into a positive guffaw.
*^ You are merry, friend Thomas,** said
Issachar Chargeit, the whig lawyer.
200 JACK ASHORE.
*^ So I he\ sir — and that's saying much foT
an old man like me, and this cruel north-east
wind cutting me in two, as 'twere."
*« Due south ; look at the weather-cock,*^ said
Adolphus Stilts, the tory practitioner.
*^ Well, gentlemen, I'll never gainsay the
church, but only look at his worship's dog-
vanes — but, however, pass on, gentlemen."
^* Better go wrong by the churchy than right
by any .other guide," said the tory.
** That is to say," said the whig, ** when the
church is under our guidance.
^* Has Sir John dined P" asked three voices
simultaneously.
** Just upon the finish — make haste up^" said
the old man, giggling afresh.
The deputation waited for no more informa-
tion, but, breaking the order of their marshal-
ling, it became a kind of race who should be the
first under the ample portico of Fortintower Hall.
On the arrival there of the deputation,
they found many servants in the Hall ready to
JACK ASHORE. 201
receive them, and very pleasant indeed every-
body looked. This was a most favourable
augury, and the mouths of the august thirteen
watered with savoury anticipations. They
were very ceremoniously ushered into a vast
and marble-paved room, that had not a vestige
of furaiture. There were neither seats on
which to repose, nor fires wherewith to warm
their shivering limbs. In this place they
were left nearly a quarter of an hour unnoticed,
and to their dismay they found that the ample
folding-doors had been locked upon them.
They could discover no bell, and the idea that
they were prisoners began to prevail among
them.
They shouted— they attempted the windows
— soine of them began to feel stupid from the
effects of the extreme cold ; but when their
miseries had almost become insupportable, the
door opened, and Sir John himself suddenly
appeared, with the blandest of smiles upon his
countenance.
K 5
S02 JACK ASHOAE.
Bat what an appearance! He was dreflsed
man-of-war fashion ; his jacket was none of the
best, his hat was flat and battered, and his
trousers patched and tarry* But what was the
most singular in this appearance was a huge nap-
kin, by no means of the cleanest, that was pinned
upon his breast. In one hand he held a large
silver spoon, in the other his tarpaulin hat
Sir John made them a low bow, and Tery
civilly said, '^ Gentlemen, to what am I in-
debted for this honour ?*
Then boldly stepped forth Issachar Cbargeit,
and said, " Sir John Truepenny, you see
before you thirteen humble and undeserving in-
dividuals—'*
^^ I understand that,'' said Jack, bowing to
the ground.
** Undeserving individuals who compose a
deputation from the most respectable inhabi-
tants of your borough town of Fortintower,
that is to say, the whig portion of it — **
^*The which I positively deny,'' said Au-
JACK ASHO&B. 203
gustus Stilts; *<the respectability of the place
is comprised sdely of those professing very
opposite principles.'^
** Slavish jackanapes !^ said Issachar, con-
temptuously.
** Contemptible leveller 1" said Augustus)
with the true aristocratic morgue.
It is very cold, gentlemen,^ said Jack ;
will you fight it out ?*
But Amos Ames interposed, and said that
they were the deputation which had waited
upon Sir John to invite him to become patron
steward to their annual subscription ball, and
that they had come expressly on his invitation.
With a well-feigned surprise Sir John ex-
claimed, *^ Bless me^ my good friends, you
certainly must have made a mistake — I could
not possibly have named to-day. Had I known
of your coming, I should have been better
prepared to receive you. I remember very
well receiving a message from you, but how
did you understand my answer?'
204 JACK ASHOttE.
'* You invited us to come. Sir John, no
doubt for very wise and sufficient reasons, the
first day it rained and blowed hard.'*
" I did, Mr. what-d^ye-call-yourself. My
reasons were excellent. You may know them
in good time."
<'We doubt it not, Sir John,'* said the
whig lawyer, *^ and, with sdl humility, we think
that it rains sufficiently.**
There was an assenting shudder ran through
the deputation.
** I cannot deny it,*' said Sir John, looking
learnedly at the clouds.
*^And as to the wind,** said a lean tailor
blowing on the ends of his fingers, ^ had it not
been for my catching hold of Mr. Ames*s
cloak, I should have been blown out of your
worship's park.**
^ There is a capful of wind — I confess to as
much,** said Jack.
<^ And due south," said all the deputation in
chorus.
JACK ASHORE.
205
^^ No,** said Jack, looking up at the scud.
*' O yes ; it is still light enough to see the
weathercock on the church steeple— due south
— as I am an honest exciseman.'"
" What do my dog-vanes say ? — never mind ;
we wonH argufy the point," continued Sir
John ; '* whatever it may be out of doors, tlie
wind is to the southward here, in this house —
there is, gentlemen, to-day, a southerly wind
in the bread-bag, as we have it afloat. How-
ever, I am happy to see you all ; very happy —
you have still rather unfortunately chosen
the day, though you are more lucky in the
time of it. It is grog time o' day."^
The deputation looked up cheerfully, and
began to rub their cold hands expectingly.
*^ Have you dined, gentlemen T^
The thirteen made a full and a true con-
fession of much fasting.
**For myself, I have just done," said Jack ;
'^ but the table is still covered— the dishes still
warm. Let us make haste before they cool.
\
206 JACK A8H0BR.
We will talk of budness over our prog. Come
along, my hearties. Hurrah for a rush !"
And a very excelleDt rush they made of it
The servants had scarcely time to fling open
the doors of a large dining parlour, before the
thirteen were standing round the table. That
table and its additaments were their astonish-
ment.
There were five tureens, ten soup-plates laid
on each side of the tables a silver spoon to each
plate, and also three hard sea-biscuits. When
the deputation entered, they found the curate
seated at the lower end of the table, with his
napkin duly placed under his chin, his plate
used and dirty, and his spoon placed across
it. His eyes were twinkling with a strange
expression, otherwise his demeanour was re>
markably grave*
Sir John motioned his guests to their chairs,
and very decorously placed himself at the head
of the table. A servant, in the splendid
Fortintower livery, placed himself in attendance
JACK ASHOBB. 207
behind each of the deputation, with his nap-
kin in due form ; but we blush to record it,
so badly trained did they appear, that they
were continually placing these napkins before
their own faces, and sometimes indecorously
thrusting them in their mouths.
When Jack and his guests were duly seated,
he said to the clergyman, ^^ My esteemed
friend^ though you and I have victualled our
bread-room— that is to say, dined ourselves — I
do not think that it would be amiss, seeing these
gentlemen are about to fare sumptuously, that
you should ask a blessing upon the repast
Seeing that they are very hungry, and almost
froasen with cold, you may perhaps be brief,
though I would by no means have you
violate your sense of what is correct, for the
sake of hastening the enjoyments of mere
creature comforts. Will you have the goodness
to say grace ?**
Then up stood Mr. Polygat, and with him
the himgry ones. Never before had they
208 JACK ASHORE.
heard a grace so pious, and so full of unction —
so long, and in which the sinful lusts of the
flesh were so eloquently inveighed against
The poor fellows kept beating their numbed
feet against the floor, and looking piteousiy
towards the orator. At length it was finished,
and the hungry crew again were permitted to
seat themselves. At the bidding of Sir John,
the servants lifted the covers from the five
tureens, and the deputation were told» with
much hospitality, to help themselves.
Wry were the faces and grotesque the gri-
maces of each guest, as he conveyed the first
spoonful of the mess to his mouth. Their
second act was to look upon their host for an
explanation, which they received in nearly these
words :
^^ Messmates, you see your dinner. Lap,
lap, and enjoy yourselves. Surely you will
not disdain to fare as well as your host — ^your
landlord. You all know that, for the greater
part of my life, I have lived upon ship^s al*
JACK ASHORE. 209
lowance — and therefore, lest my sudden change
of fortune and my riches should make me
bouse-up my main-stay too proudly, I keep
one day in every month as a banyan-day.
Gentlemen, this is banyan-day at Fortintower
Hall — ^you have pot-luck — eat, I say, and take
care that you do not offend me by any ridi-
culous squeamishness."
But what had they to eat? Nothing but
hard gray peas boiled in soft water, — and sea-
biscuit so flinty, that they would equally well
have served to pave the streets or tile the
houses of the borough of Fortintower.
*^ Gentlemen," continued Jack, *' though you
have been so unfortunate as to stumble upon
banyan^ day, there is no stint with the grog — call
for as much as you will— it will keep out
the cold, and materially assist your diges-
tion."
They called for it ; and it was poured out to
them ready mixed. But the liquid was so
strong, and made of rum so new, and so rank
210 JACK ASHORE.
in taste, that it required all their respect for
their host, and for their own interest, to make
them swallow the first glass. The second the did
not find quite so abhorrent, the third was drunk
without complaint, and the fourth was actually
relished.
" I treat you as I do myself,** said Jack.
" Had you come on any other day, you would
have fared differently — or had you waited till
the wind was southerly elsewhere besides in
the bread-bag. I am a little whimsical — I
know it-^nd so I've made a bargain that
should, on the day of my monthly mortification,
the wind be at all to the southward of eaiit or
west, I pass by the banyan day for that month.
But you don't eat — I assure you that the peas,
though very hard, are very wholesome— and
the bread, when once chewed, very nourishing
— they both come directly from the victualling
stores of His Majesty's Dock Yard. The rum
is such as is served to the navy by contract,
and very good it is — of the sort Grentlemen,
JACK ASHORE. 211
I see that you are a little at a loss how to
break your biscuits. Place one in the bottom of
the palm of your hand, and then beat it against
your elbow — ^if that won't do, the servant in
waiting upon you will do the job for you with
a hammer — I am too much your friend not to
caution you against using your teeth against
it. But you do not eat* That man who eats
most does me most honour, and shall be most
my friend. Mr. Amos Ames, you and I shall
certainly quarrel if you donH drink your grog
and eat your pea-soup. Are you a better man,
sir, than I — d — ^n you, sir, eat and drink, I say
— you won't— very well ; if you are exciseman
here a month longer, my name's not Jack — ^and
you shall have notice to quit your holding from ^
my steward to-morrow. Odds bobbery! you
dainty chopped rascal — ^let me see who won't
eat. Great guns and grapnels ! Ain't I mas-
ter ^here, and mayn't I do what I like with my
own?"
«
The other twelve looked upon the thirteenth,
212 JACK ASHORE.
the despiser of pea-soup, with astonishment, and
regarded him as a fool and a ruined man.
Vigorously did they apply the spoon, and, in
order that they might provoke an appetite,
they drank eagerly and plentifully of the liquid
fire. Amos Ames, however, seemed much at
his ease, and after he had tasted the first spoon-
ful of the peasoup, and the first sip of the gro^
to use Jack^s language, he very coolly ** lay
upon his oars.**
We will not say that these boiled peas were
quite so distasteful, and they certainly were
not so hard, as were those immortal parched
ones that the jolly friar offered to Richard the
First, so pleasantly recorded in the exciting
story of Ivanhoe — but the biscuit was harder,
and remained nearly untouched* Half terrified,
and already half drunk, the deputation, with
the exception of the excisemen, ate on madly,
with a desperation that was very whimsical.
The two lawyers vied with each other in the
ardour of their zeal, and at length began
JACK ASIiOBE. 213
to chant the praises of the swine-befitting
mess.
Sir John rose from the table, and whisper-
ing something into the ear of each guest, about
an abatement of rent, a renewal of a lease, or
something of the sort ; he urged them all on
till they were completely swilled, and they
could positively eat no more. When the rogue
had fully ascertained this, he resumed his place
at the head of the table, and looked for the
clergyman to say grace; but he, disgusted with
the scene, had previously stolen away, so the
office was not desecrated in his person. The
exciseman volunteered to officiate in his stead,
and begged that they might be made than)cful
for what they were goitig to receive: — a mis-
take that was not remarked by the besotted
guests.
**' Now, gentlemen,'^ said Jack, in a tip-top
voice, ^* Banyan day is over — let us all go to
my lady, and arrange about the ball/'
Preceded and attended by a host of servants,
214 JACK 'ASHO&£.
the puty wtMggaed into the MoUe a tmangery
where they found Lady Truepenny, Colond
Chacfheirs intimate firiend^ Captain Nitragas,
and three gentlemen of fortune with their ladies,
waiting the removal of the covers from a most
splendid dinner. The sideboard displayed
preparations equaUy appedxing. The deputa-
tion were introduced to Lady Truepenny in
form, and she, having graciously received
them, invited them to stay dinner.
They, with the exception of the exciseman,
who was all through in the secret, and Jack's
«
coadjutor, had merely the power to attempt to
seat themselves, when Sir John, seeing their
lost state, with a malicious grin told them to
mind for the future how the wind blew; he
then consigned them to the care (^Groggy Fox-
bead, and bidding him to finish them up with
grog, and then put them in a covered cart, and
leave them at their respective homes, to the
tender mercies €i their wives and die jeers of
their neighbours.
JACK ASHOBK. 215
The exciseman would also have withdrawn,
but Sir John finding that the rest of the com-
pany made no objection, he was honoured with
a place at the tabie» and the evening terminated
with the usual riotous mirth.
216 JACK ASUORK.
CHAPTER XI.
Preparations for a ball, and some reflections thereapoo— -Pro-
viding for fun — The proriders at fault — Jack and the linen-
draper — Tbej take tbeii measures together^— The piece does
not run abort.
The sated with gray peas, and the keepers of
banyan days, had to run the gauntlet of the
whole town, and very assiduously and coarsely
jeered they were. There were other mortifica-
tions and inconveniences attending on this
piso banquet, to which it will be more than
sufficient barely to allude. However, the de-
putation gained their point as well as their
pea-soup, and Sir John Truepenny was an-
nounced as the steward and the patron of the
JACK ASHORE. 217
forthcoming hall, with the donation of fifty
pounds, for the express purpose of procuring
wine to the attendant supper.
The pains and pleasures of preparation, for
a f(6te of this description in a provincial town,
among the fair, have been so often and so
pleasantly described, that we have no induce-
ment to tread upon the well-beaten path.
These ambitious aspirations after dress are no
more ridiculous, in themselves, in a remote
borough, than are the like contentions of supe-
riority among the frequenters of Almack's.
They are ridiculous only in comparison — and
between the usual attendants upon a rural ball
and a metropolitan assembly room, the philo-
sophic mind would find it difficult to award the
preference.
Let us take two specimens of each of the
dowagers, the matron and the maiden, in the
two respective walks of life — a bad one and a
good one ; let us compare them, and after we
VOL. III. L
218 TACK ASHORE.
have done it as fairly as we can, we will leave
the reader to pass judgment.
The good dowager of fashionable life is a
quiet, contented looking person, whose eyes
dance and keep tune with the feet of the
younger persons ; she may beat the time gently
with her fan, and has a kind word and a com-
placent smile for every one. She is richly and
welly but npt showily dressed ; and if there be
any excess about her, it is in the intrinsic value
of her jewellery. People, without appearing
ostentatiously to seek, pay court to her ; and
she is always ready to reassure the timid, and
remove the embarrassment of the younger por-
tion of her own sex.
In the country.! the good dowager will be
much of what we have described ; but if she be
a little more bustling and talkative^ it is amply
compensated by her benevolence^ and evident
warm-heartedness. Her manners will neither be
so soft, so refined, nor so dignified, but there
JACK ABMOEB. t219
will be about tbem an undoubted cordiality, and
an eagerness topromote the general pleasure, that
may be fairly taken as an equivalent. She will
neither be so richly nor fashionably dressed as is
her counterpart ; but she will never be over-
dressed ; and though not attired in the reigning
mode, she will at once be antiquely, and consis-
tently and becomingly attired.
The bad specimen of the dowager class of
fashion is what? We are almost afraid to
portray her — we will not — we respect the
withered and cankered leaf, because it belongs
to the rose tree. But it will be said^ ^* Imagine
her to be as bad as you will, to all this you
may add, for the country dowager^ vulgarity !*'
True, but then which is the worse, the vulgarity
of a licentious age and of refined depravity, or
that of arrogant and coarse rusticity ? The
blow from the jagged scythe may be heavier
and more violently given than the stab from
the polished and envenomed poniard. We
will not give a preference to either.
L 2
220 JACK ASHORE.
The matrons of the town and the country —
alas ! the age knows of none, in the stem and
Roman acceptation of the term. We have
married ladies, elegant, beautiful, and good —
but no matrons. As we proceed, we grow
weary of the comparison. We will dismiss the
subject at once by saying, that it is one almost
impossible to pronounce upon. Each station
has its vulgarities, but so identical are they in
realities, that they are equally vulgar in all that
is bad ; yet so distinct in mere accidents and
extrinsics, that the refinement of the rural would
be the vulgarity of the courtly circles.
But whatever of refinement or of vulgarity
the Fortintoweronians possessed, they were
all assiduously employed in the means of show-
ing it off to the best advantage. When the
fifty pound gift was known, many who had
been before startled at the expense of the half-
guinea, now proceeded eagerly to secure
tickets.
Sir Edward Fortintower had always petted
JACK ASHORE. 221
this annual ball ; though it was now remem-
bered, that instead of bestowing fifty guineas
upon it, neither he, nor the friends that might
happen to be staying with him, ever paid for
their tickets ; but the townsfolk had more than
their money value in the honour conferred upon
them. And then, Sir Edward so well acted the
part of patron. All the old ladies called him
a blessed angel upon ^rth. He was all things
to all men, and almost everything to the women*
Jack knew this, and dreaded the comparison.
He was very anxious to ascertain exactly who
would be there.
Two days before the affair was to take place,
he was very much relieved to find that neither
the Earl of Loftiput, nor any of his family,
would honour the room with their presence.
A deputation consisting of most of the pean-
eating members had waited upon them, but
they gained nothing by this step but a cour-
teous dismissal, and a polite refusal. It was
Jack's fifty pounds that closed the doors
222 JACK ASHOEE.
against them, and caused the old noUeman to
endanger his influence and bis popularity in the
place.
Now the reader must have perceived long
before this, that poor Jack wa^ a lost poor Jack
— that his head had cast the wrong way, and
that nothing short of a miracle could save him
from total wreck. That he was already one
third worse than eccentric, was now generally
known; yet most of his vagaries had so much of
drollery in them, were so good-naturedly worked
out, or, if they involved injury to any one, so
generously compensated for, that he was qoite
popular ; and no one ever complained of him,
but those actually under his pleasant persecu*
tions.
All these things made the denizens of Fortin-
tower not only expect, but also to wish, that Sir
Jolin would signalise the ensuing ball with some-
thing very funny. The same idea was actively
occupying Sir John's thoughts, and those of his
not too worthy coadjutor, Groggy Foxhead.
JACK ASHORE. 223
But nothing that was not too stale or too gross
occurred to either of them. Jack felt that a mere
riot or open rudeness to tlie party would dis-
grace himself. To all his low friend^s sugges-
tions of turning pigs into the room, of letting
loose among the ladies a dancing bear, extin-
guishing the lights by candle crackers, or of
introducing a body of sweeps down the chim-
ney, the baronet gave more than a negative;
he betrayed displeasure.
" Your blocks want greasing, stupid ! There's
no gumption in you — you go off worse than a
damp blank cartridge ; besides all this, you grow
confoundedly low. I think I shall go to the
shindy as grand as a lord, and come it strong,'^
said Sir John mournfully.
" Well, Sir John — fun's fun — and I can't
see no difference so long as yer happy. I could
lead an ass into the room, dressed out in a mob
cap, *zactly the very spit of Mrs, Stilto's."
^* You and your mob cap are fit only for one
of your own vulgar mobs. I must send you up
224 JACK ASHORK.
to your back dums again. Do you think if
you got crying drunk, it would mend your in.
vention ?**
** Don't know, Sir John, but it might Shall
I ring for the needful?^
" Well — but it's only eleven 6*clock — never
mind, ring.**
** And pipes ?"
« Why not ?"
So the grog and the pipes were produced,
and before much business was done with them,
it was announced to Sir John that one Mr.
Simpkins, the fourth-rate linen-draper of the
place, claimed an audience. Sir John was ac-
cessible at all times, and as the presence of
the linen-draper promised amusement, it was
ordered that he should be admitted immedi-
ately.
People much conversant with physiognomy,
and studious of the human countenance, will be
ready to testify that likenesses of William Pitt,
the heaven-bom minister, have been, and per-
JACK ASHORE. 225
haps still are, more common than those of any
other individuaL Indeed, we do not know of
any social circle, of any tolerable circumference,
that has not one of these similitudes among
them. Our own circle is not very vast, and it
possesses two. The borough of Fortintower
had one, and a very striking one indeed, in the
person of this same linen-draper, Mr. Simpkin.
That he possessed any of the vast talents of
** the pilot that weathered the storm," we de-
cline to pronounce ; but that he was not wholly
without financial abilities, may be inferred from
the fact that he had been thrice bankrupt, and
became more thriving after each failure.
The man of the yard measure made his
entrei and his bow, and it was very evident
that he was brimful of indignation.
" What can we do for you now, Billy Pitt ? —
come—sit ye there, man, and whet your whistle
— ^you have a right to a place at any table in
the county, for the sake of your figure-head.**
** I wish. Sir John, that it was thought so.
L 5
226 JACIC A8U0KK.
But it is not every one that has your worahip^s
penetration. I have come to make a complaint
to your honour, as steward and patix>n of the
ensiling subscription ball — I throw myself on
your mercy."
^^ That is well said for a man-mercer. Now
what can my mercy do for you ? You know
that I leave all about the flannel s and flounces to
her ladyship and the housekeeper. But really
I have a kindly feeling for yoUf for you take
your grog manfully .''
^^ Ah, Sir John, they have refused me a
ticket for the ball.''
" You I"
*' Me, me, me !*'
" Utterly impossible ! — ^you, with the only
sensible face in the town — ^you, who so well
represent the great representative of the nation's
prosperity I Why, Mr. Simpkin, the ball can
no more do without you^ than the government
without noseyfied Pitt."
** But all the committee think otherwise.
JACK ABHORS. 227
There's Ames, and Blowfittle, and the t\n)
thieves of lawyers, all object to me, on account
of want of respectability — ^the first time these
twenty years. — What wUl Mrs. Simpkin
say!"
** Ah, what indeed !** and Jack looked all
sympathy.
** And there are the young Messieurs Simp-
kin, and the three young ladies. What a dis-
grace to them !"
" Ah, my good Pitt, I have all a father's
feelingR on the subject.''
** You can't. Sir John,'' chimed in Foxhead
— ** ain't been long enough on the estate."
* Come, belay there — I may be a stepfather
to them yet."
*^ It is no more than we expect of you. Sir
John. In your excellent kinsman's time, Sir*
Edward Fortintower, Mrs. Simpkin was much
flattered with his notice.""
« No doubt on't. A sly dog, that Ned."
** And if he were here, be would not suffer
228 JACK ASHOEE.
this— he was a great friend to our family. Sir
John,""
*^ Well, well — ^but, between you and me and
the grog bottle, what is the reason that you
are now excepted against ? Come, plain sail-
ing. To make a friend of me, there must be
no yawing in your steerage. Out with it, man.
Why, simple body that you be ! don't you
think that I shall have it from some one else,
and with a few strokes of the tar-brush into the
bargain?"
" And that is very true. You understand.
Sir John, that this long and disastrous war
must necessarily cause great fluctuations in
business ; the best calculators may be thrown
out. They object to me and my amiable fa-
mily, merely because my certificate is not yet
'signed for my last bankruptcy.''
" Your last — how many have you had ?^
" This is only my third Very few of the
tradesmen of this place but have had some
misfortunes of the kind. How else could the
place support two lawyers ?''
JACK ASHOBE. S29
** Then, Mr. Simpkin, you are what is
called an uncertificated bankrupt. You see
I am down to the bearings of a thing or twa**
^* An honest one,^ said the linen-draper,
deprecatingly.
<* Then, as your landlord, 111 see you righted.
When do the committee meet ?"
" They are sitting now.**
" Well,'' said Sir John, " stay here and
fuddle yourself with Foxhead. PU go and see
what can be done for you — so stay till I return.'^
And off Jack set, and was soon in the midst of
the committee.
He inquired of these dispensers of the fashion
of the place the reasons of their refusing Simp-
kin his ticket. The reply was, that they could
not now associate with him ; they must draw the
line somewhere ; though his shop was still open,
he had not satisfied everybody, be &c., for male-
volence is ingenious in picking up sticks to fling
at the unfortunate.
230 JACK ABHORS*
*^ But does diis apply to his wife, sans, and
daughters P They are wot uncertificated
bankrupts, and they were always admitted
in the time of Sir Edward Fortintower.'^
They could give no better answ^ to this^
than that, considering the cloud under which
the linen-draper stood, it would become them
better to stay at home; inasmuch, if a man
could not pay his creditors^ he ought not to
afibrd to buy ball^tickets for his family.
This latter objection Sir John obviated by
paying for the six tickets himself for the family,
and putting them in his pocket, though without
saying for whom they were intended ; but he
seemed to aisquiesce in the propriety of ex-
cluding the bankrupt However, upon inquiry,
he satisfied himself that the man was no worse
than most of those who would be present, and he
discovered that, among the numbers expected,
the tripe-venders and three of die bakers of
the place would be comprised*
JACK ASHOKS. 381
Id lefls than an hour Jack bad returned, and
found that, during his absence, the linen-draper
and the privy councillor, Foxhead, had made
considerable progress towards happiness.
** Well," said Sir John, *« I have not been
able to make the committee change their deter-
mination as regards yourself. They all stand
upon their respectability.^
" Then,'' said Mr. Simpkin, very viciously,
^* they are like rope-dancers, and can stand upon
very little."
^* Upon as much as some of them will one day
dance upon — and that's nothing. But, to make
up lor the disappointment to yourself, there are
three double tickets, which will admit Mrs.
Simpkin, the three young ladies, and the two
young gentlemen.^'
'* You are truly good and generous. lu
their happiness I will forget my own morti-
fication." And the mercer placed his hand
upon his heart, and looked as sentimental as
Werter. At that moment he made the glorious
resolve that his shop should groan for it, or his
232 JACK ASHORE.
family should outshine the most luminous of
the Fortintower luminaries.
** Pass the jug, and listen to me, Simpkin,'^
said Jack, ^^ and it will be your fault if you are
not the most honoured and most flattered guest
at this same dance.**
** 1 am all attention — I am devotedly yours.**
** ni tell you what it is: may be Fm a
rough spun-yam, yet I don't like mutiny in my
ship, and won't allow any squabbling among my
tenants. As far as I can see, you are all of you
much of a muchness, and I won't suffer any of
you to give themselves airs at the expense of
others. Now, that jackanapes-formed committee
of management — ^bless the long name ! — stick
themselves up as being very knowing upon real
gentility, and not a son of a gun of them ever
served on board of a man^f-war. There's
impudence for you ! I dare to say that, in
private, theyVe the audacity to say that I'm no
gentleman myself."
<'They do, indeed, Sir John," said the
mercer.
JACK A8HO&X. 233
** Thought as much. Proves their ignorance.
Now, mark me, Mr. Skinflint, obey orders, and
for one night you shall be almost the greatest
man in the three kingdoms^ barring his Majesty
and myself/'
'* On course," said Mr. Simpkin, with a low
bow.
^* Now you are a sharp-built, ^cute fellow , or
your face is the greatest liar on earth ; and if
you can't act a part, I was never more deceived
in my life.''
** You are not deceived. Sir John, I can act
a part"
** Foxhead, just make yourself scarce,
and tell James to bring me the portfolio of
engravings you will find behind the sofa, in the
crimson drawing-room, and donH show yourself
till your watch is called.''
The portfolio was brought ; and when Jack
and the tradesman were by themselves, the
former produced a full-length coloured en-
984 JACK ASHOES.
graving, at that tinie very popular of the im-
mortal minister, in courrt coMkme.
«< You see this," said Jack. " Now attend
to orders. Give out that you are forced to go
to the North on business ; and do this in sudi a
manner that your fellow-townsmen may suppose
that your absence is an excuse to hide your
vexation.*^
I understand you fully/'
Let your family punctually attend this
hop. I'll take care of them."
I am very grateful to you, Sir Jobn**^
And so you ought, when you know alL
Post up quickly to town ; get yourself rigged
out, stock and fluke, like this engraving. Omit
no particular. I shidi stand all the expense.
I'll give you a line to my banker's. Go to the
first hairdresser's, and get your nob worked up
in the fashion of the picture— don't omit a single
curl. You have three days dear to do all this.
On the feuTth, the day of the^ ball, get you a
tt
C(
JACK ASHOEt. 236
chaise and four, with two outriders; four
hours will bring yon down well. Shortly after
the ball has commenced, draw up here, put on
very important airs, and inquire for me. Of
course, I shall be at the assembly. You follow
me there, and see the result. By jingo, but we
will have fun P
** Very excellent. Sir John — beautiful ! Am
I to call myself William Pitt? Won't it be
high treason ?"
« Call yourself William Pitt ? No ! If
others wonH do so, you are not fit for the
spree. You are to act the mysterious. Talk
of raising regiments— invasion — ^get up com-
missions—be all ambiguity — turn all their heads
— make fools of them — and we'll finish with a
grand scene."
a \Yg ^in I Glorious ! triumphant ! You've
the head. Sir John."'
" Well, keep the secret. There's the letter
to my banker's. Get home to your wife — take
236 JACK ASHORB.
leave. You're going North, you know ! Walk
to the next town, and away for London/'
The linen-draper hurried away, and left Jack
a gleeful man.
JACK asu6bb. 2S7
CHAPTER XII.
The ball<— £Terything in apple-pie order— A graod arrival—
The people stumble into the pit Jack bad dug for them —
All the world turned courtiers— The followers of the fox at
fault— After-dinner speeches— Consternation, explanation/
and termination.
The all-important night arrived, and a
most brilliant assembly crowded the spacious
rooms at the Fortintower Arms. Gorgeous in
their volunteer and yeomanry uniform, farmers
succeeded tradesmen, and tradesmen farmers;
but, glorious as were these, yet, in all their
glory, they equalled not the many-tinted bril-
liancy displayed by their wives and daughters.
2S8 JACK ASHORE*
The neighbouring squires and the professional
men, from a circumference of twenty miles, were
there also, to look down upon the shopocracy,
patronise, and play off their superiority aud con-
tempt in a thousand mean and invidious way&
Sir John, accompanied by Mr. Singleheart,
had been there very early. Being one of the
stewards, our herodid not think it beneath him to
superintend the arrangements, and provide for
the accommodation of people invited in his
name. He was simply and neatly dressed as
a private gentleman, and was neither drunk nor
perfumed with tobacco. He was so considerate,
so kind to all, and so anxious to place every
one at their ease, that people wondered if this
urbane personage could possibly be the rollick-
ing« drunken, prosperity-spoiled seaman, the
man of coarse manners, and of practical jokes.
Whea the rooms began to be crowded, Lady
Truepenny, attended by Captain Nitregas, a
particular friend of the wounded and bed-ridden
colonel, entered the room. She appeared very
JACK A8HOBS. 280
beautiful, and swam up the room leaning ap»
provingly and smilingly upon the captain^s
arm, which captain the ladies had dubbed a
very pretty fellow, and be thought himself
something more. Lady Truepenny had re-
solved to show Jack some of hen baughtinessi and
intended to play off her superiority to her lord
and master by the means of the handsome sol*
dier. But she was utterly surprised when she
observed her despised husbandi come and re-
ceive her with all tbe grace of a gentleman, yet
with the distant courtesy of a highly-bred
stranger. Sober and well-dressed as he then
was, he appeared to be, by far, the most splendid
man in the room.
Captain Nitregas '* paled his ineffectual fire"
near him, and dwindled into insignificance.
Strange compunctious visitings made the lady
tremble. She left her cavalier abruptly, and
placing her arm affectionately within that of
her husband, and drawing it to her side, whis-
S40 JACK ASHORE.
whispered in his ear, *' Dear Johii» were you
but always thus I"
But the idndly overture was ill-timed. Jack
neither replied to the action nor to the words,
but leading her respectfully to a seat at the
upper end of the room, he made her a low bow,
and went and busied himself with doing the
agreeable to the rest of the company.
And that night Jack won aU hearts but the
one that ought to have been the dearest to him^
and the return of whose affection he had so
carelessly slighted. Sir Edward F(Htintower
was no longer missed. There was a warm-
heartedness in his affability that convinced
every one his was the politeness of the soul, not
of the manner. Men looked upon him and
wondered, women gazed and admired. The
deputation of -thirteen would have hesitated to
have sworn to the identity of the urbane and
attentive patron of the country ball, with the
half-tipsy wag who had intimidated them into
JACK ASHORE. 241
intoxication, and bullied them into a beasty
repletion on boiled hog-peas.
Our dear Jack glided from party to party,
with a kind word or a pleasant speech for all ;
gay with the bold, laughing with the jocular,
assuring the timid, and making a gracious
equality the universal sentiment, not by osten-
tatiously lowering himself to the low and
humble, but by elevating them into social hap-
piness, and by making each person that did his
best to please sensible that if, for that night,
he or she would confess none beneath, they
should not be made to feel that there were any
above them.
Of a truth, there was much that was ridi-
culous, much of vulgarity, and much that was
grotesque in that promiscuous assembly. The
men were, many of them, awkward, silly, rain ;
the women tawdriJy dressed, heated, fussy, and
palpably greedy of admiration. But in what
meeting will you not find all this, under local
modifications ?
VOL. III. M
242 JACK ASHOBE.
In one point, the ball was very fashionable ;
it was too crowded for general dancing. With
much difficulty, a small circle was excavated
in the centre of the principal room, in which
the minuet of the good old times was attempted.
But we have to do with the history of this ball,
only so far as our hero was concerned.
Now, the managing committee— the deputa-
tion of thirteen— the three linendrapers, more
achalandes than Mr. Simpkin, aU three tidy
folks, who held their business as more refined
than that of a man-mercer*s — all those who had
never been bankrupt, and they were an exclu-
sive few — all those who had been but once
bankrupt — all those who had been bankrupt
but twice — all those who had been bankrupt
three times, but had gained their certificates —
all these rejoiced mightily that the stewards had
vindicated the respectability of the assembly, by
closing its doors against Mr. Simpkin. They
were glad with each other upon it.
The two lawyers were mutually oomplimen-
JACK ABHORB. 243
tary on the occasion ; the head butcher of the
town congratulated the head cheesemonger;
the town council took praise to themselves;
the collector of the king^s taxes breathed more
freely ; the air was not contaminated by being
breathed by a paltry bankrupt shopkeeper.
They were so select I
We say it with the utmost depression of
sorrow, that in these pharisaical sentiments the
ladies more than participated. But, bless their
gentle souls I it was expressed in pity. They
deeply, very deeply commiserated poor Mrs.
Simpkin. To be sure, she had held up her
head a little too proudly — and the three young
ladies — ^but it was a mercy to them — they sup-
posed that they would go to service ; but the
lesson was salutary — they never could show
themselves after this.
After the finish of the first minuet, there
was the bustle of combination among the white-
wanded and satin-bouqueted gentlemen. It
was intimated to them that the rejected family,
m2
244 JACK ASHORE.
iivith the exception of its uncertificated bead,
was at the door ; — ^more — that tbey had passed
the threshold — worse still, that they were dis-
puting in the lobby with the doorkeeper, who
was denying them entrance. What audacity !
what insolence !
A few words from Jack, and all these mur-
murs were hushed.
" I gave them the tickets — I invited them !
I yielded the point of the man to you, gentle-
men ; but his wife and family are not uncer-
tificated bankrupts. The man's misfortunes
certainly cannot degrade them.**
Sir John went to the door; he gave the
flushed and burly Mrs. Simpkin his arm, and,
followed closely by her gratified family, he led
her to the top of the room. He conversed with
her for some time^ and, after addressing an en-
couraging word to each of her children, he
placed her between the august spouses of the
two lawyers, recommending her particularly to
their kind attention.
JACK ASHORE. 245
And they showed it, after their manner.
They deplored the absence of her husband —
asked how long he would stay in the north ? —
who would look after the shop during his en-
forced abdication ? — and if, in the very involved
state of affairs, they could not get certain silks
and linens a bargain ?
These attentions were too much for poor
Mrs. Simpkin; so, with her heart full, and
heroically suppressing her tears, she moved on
towards other consolers, who adopted the same
strain of sympathy, and thus she ran the
gauntlet of comforters. The younger branches
of the family fared no better ; the sons found
all the ladies engaged, and the daughters could
find none to engage them.
Our honest, kind-hearted Jack observed all
this, and, from time to time, looked anxiously
at his watch. He had almost resolved to alter
his determination not to dance, in order to lead
Mrs. Simpkin out, when the bustle that he
246 JACK ASHORE*
was SO anxiously expecting was at length
heard.
But we must premisci notwithstanding all
Jack's exertions, though the company mixed,
they did not amalgamate. The gentry and
the landed proprietors, with their ladies, occu-
pied, exclusively, the right-hand comer of the
principal room ; round these revolved the pro-
fessionals and their wives, in social contact,
but not mingled with them. The rich farmers,
with their ruddy and jolly dames, skirmished
round the professionals, sometimes penetrating
the circle and reaching the aristocracy, and
sometimes diverging into the shopocracy. The
latter had a terrible tendency to coagulate into
little cliques, but they were, from time to time,
stirred up by the wands of the various stewards,
and kept in a tolerable state of fusion. The
company had just again begun to subside into
knots, when the expected dash was heard.
There was a shouting in the street, then a
JACK ASHORE. 247
huzzaing, the trampling of many horses, and
cries of ** Room, room I" The doors were im-
mediately flung open, and two of the powdered,
lace-bedizened footmen of Sir John, with their
cocked-hats in their left, and their immense
gold-headed canes in their right hands, rushed
into the room, and each bellowed out in chorus,
" Sir John Truepenny !"
"WelV said Sir John, "take breath!
What's the matter ?"
" We — we — I — I — so wonderful,"* said the
man.
" The hall on fire l"
** WonderfuUer than that,^ said one.
** It is he hisself, your honour," said the
other.
« Who ?""
" The great William Pitt !" said Thomas
gasping for breath.
'* The prime minister !" said the other, look-
ing terrified.
Impossible I'' said Jack*
it
I
(C
Cfi
248 JACK A8HOKK.
The curiosity became intense.
« True, Sir John.**
** Chaise and four.**
<* Outriders."
'' Dashed up to the hall."
Must see Sir John directly.*^
His Majesty P
" Invasion !**
Thus each spoke, taking the word from each
in his eagerness. The public anxiety was excru-
ciating. The hush was so great, that every
person could hear his neighbour's, breathing.
« WeUI***
^* We jumped behind the great man^s car-
riages^ said the faster speaker of the two» '* and
he*s now at the door, waiting to speak to your
honour.**
The sensation was electrifying and the rush
towards the door awful.
** Bless me, gentlemen,** roared out Jack ;
'^ what are we all about ? Form a procession
to receive the great man. Your wands — three
JACK ASHORK. 249
abreast. Let the gentry take precedence ; now
the clergy — professionals — landholders— hush —
not a word — order. Now^s the time to display
your loyalty. Ladies, range yourselves into
lines — of course you will do the pillar of the
state honour.^
The ranks were duly formed, and out
marched the deputation) and shortly after re-
turned, ushering in, with bows and vociferous
cheering, the stranger.
«' It is he I— It is he 1"
As the uncectiBcated bankrupt linendraper
walked slowly, smilingly, and graciously, be-
tween the two ranks of ladies, they curtseyed
to the ground, waved their handkerchiefs, and
flung upon him bunches of artificial flowers.
When he arrived at the upper end of the room,
the noise of the clapping of hands and of the
shouting was tremendous. Simpkin placed
his hand upon his heart, looked round with an
air of triumphant gratification, and made such
M 5
250 JACK ASHOBE.
a bow that the ladies were all enraptured, and
the last drop of whiggery oozed out of the
hearts of the men.
And then lifted up his voice and spake that
incomparable rogue, our dear Jack, looking as
awe-stricken as the cook's mate's scullion before
the skipper himself.
'* Have I the first-rate honour of hailing the
pilot who weathered the storm, the heaven-bom
minister, the main-stay of the state, the un-
matched, matchless, unmatchable, the ad-
mirable, right honourable William Pitt .^
*' Hush, Sir John Tniepenny r said the
linendraper, with a lisping^ sweetly modulated
voice. ^* Be discreet, my good Sir John. The
pilot who weathered the storm must have most
important affairs, to be running over tbe coun-
try at this time of night." And then, in a
sterner voice, he continued, ^* Remember, Sir
John, that my incognito is strict***
Though all this was spoken so audibly that
JACK A8HOR£. 251
every person present heard him, he elevated
his voice still more, and exclaimed, '* I am not
William Pitt — at least in this room !"
^* What an able minister I How beautifully
he lies !'' said half a dozen voices.
" He's as like my Sam as two yards of ribbon
cut off the same length," said the good Mrs.
Simpkin.
** He is very like pa," said his two daughters,
** only pa ainH quite so ugly."
^* He^s the very model of father," said the
three sons ; *^ only a little taller.'*
^' The impudence of these low-bom wretches V*
said and thought all those about the last
speakers. ^ This glorious minister is no more
like the dirty, shuffling, sneaking shopkeeper,
than a golden guinea is like a bad farthing !''
** ni never believe rumours about likenesses
again !"
" Nor I — such dignity !"
** Nor I — such condescension P*
'* Nor I — such grace !"
262 JACK ASUOttK.
^ Hush I the great aian speaks."
^* Some few minutes of private ooQTereatioo
with you. Sir John, as the principal landholder
in this part of the county^ and let them get
fresh horses ; my stay must be brief<**his Ma-
jesty — but I forget myself.^
Sir John was all obsequiousness. The
small room, that made the last of the three
thrown open to the company, and which had
been used by the elderly {of scandal and
cards, was unceremoniously cleared, and the
doors closed upon the deluding oouplep
We blush to record it ; it is 4i stain on the
manners, nay, on the sense of honour, of the
Fortintoweronians ; but they could not help it
— the temptation was too much : it was beyond
mortal resistance. The whig lawyer placed his
ear to the keyhole, and the tory lawyer his eye
to a chink in the door, and t|ie company kicked
neither of them — they did not push them
indignantly away; they did not remonstrate
with them ; must we confess it ? they approved
JACK ASHOBB. 283
of, they encouraged those in the act, who were
overwhelmed with the questions, ** Wliat do
you hear ? What do you see ?**
** They are shaking hands," said the tory
eye of the company.
J* They are talking about fools, idiots, asses/*
said the whig ear.
** They are dancing like mad about the
room," notified the eye.
<' They are laughing hke to die^*' notified the
ear.
*< They have sat down in the farther end of
the room.*^
** They are talking in whispers*'*
At last, to the relief of much anxiety, the
door was suddenly thrust open, the legal spies
overturned, and the droll pair reappeared.
Sir John announced to the company that the
distinguished stranger had consented to remain
and sup with them, and orders that the horses
should be delayed were ostentatiously given*
Then began the richness of the farce. Dancing
2A4 JACK A8H0HE.
was no longer thought of. Cards were held as
an abomination. The musicians had, for that
evening, a sinecure office. The ball-rooms
were turned into a court, the whole body of the
assembly into courtiers, and the uncertificated
bankrupt into the potentate, at whose feet was
poured forth the incense of adulation.
Then began the introductions. But the wily
bankrupt would receive none presented to him
as William Pitt, at present ; he was bound to
keep up his incognUot but he should be happy,
most happy, to bear to the highest quarters the
sentiments of loyalty and attachment to the go-
vernment, which he had the happiness of hearing
on the occasion. Every man there gave in his
adhesion to the present administration. Issachar
Chargeit abjured whiggism for ever on the spot,
and thrust a card in Simpkin's hand. The squires
and their wives fawned about him, but no one
was more sycophantic than the proud, fat rector.
Dr. Canticle, who had been, till that moment,
a most arrogant whig. After having licked the
JACK ASHORK. 255
rising dust from off the linen-draper's feet, he
retired for a quarter of an hour, and, with a
meek smile, sUpped a memorial into the hand
of his newly-elected patron. This example was
followed by many others, till at length the linen-
draper had his coat-pockets tolerably well
stuffed. He then spoke of negotiating three or
four Fortintower commissions of inquiry,
with salaries for the commissioners of, say,
one thousand pounds a year.
The crowd bowed down and worshipped.
During all this, our villanous Jack had got into
a comer of the room, and was all but suffocated
with suppressed laughter ; he was black in the
face, the tears flowed down his cheeks, and he
was within seventeen pulsations of apoplexy.
Simpkin, after he had taken down the name of
almost every person present — for all had some
favour to solicit, either for himself or his con-
nexions — standing in an imposing attitude in the
middle of the room, he made a remark that he
had heard, that ** in this remote place there was
356 JACK ABHOBK*
one Simpkiiiy a very honefit but unfortunate
felloW) who was said to be very like him.
Where was he ? Why was he not here ?*'
Then bad he the satisfaction of hearing him-
self most abundantly abused. He was informed
that he was a scurry, sneaking scoundrel, without
the decent manners of a tradesman ; a cheat, a
blackguard, and no more like his honourable sdf
than was a toad-stool to a rose ; a felk>w that
ought to be kicked from the stocks to the dung-
hill, and there left to rot and die.
Sam Simpkin winced under this, changed co-
lour, and very adroitly wandered from the sub-
ject Jack, however, came to his relief ; and
leading up his own family, introduced them to
the stranger, who was so aflable and courteous
to them, that Mrs., the Misses, and the Messrs.
Simpkin immediately rose three hOndred per
cent, in the general estimation. The abusers
of the linen-draper began to think they had
gone too far.
At length supper was announced in the lower
JACK ASHOBB. 857
rooms. It was a hot and a substantial one;
the wines were good and abundant. Jack^s
fifty pounds, and the subscription tickets, more
than fully supplied the means. There were
two long tables and a cross one, and room
for all* Samuel Simpkin was ushered into
the supper-room with all the honours, placed
at the cross-table at Jack's "^ right hand; grace
was said, and the banquet began* At the
cross-table were seated the deputation of thir-
teen, and the principal gentry of the county.
They sported champagne, a wine that Simp-
kin and many of the deputation had never
before tasted, and the poor linen-draper was
hardly borne upon — ^for who there was not
ambitious to drink wine with him ? He soon
began to forget himself momentarily, and
Jack pinched him into black and blue
' spots to make him recover himself. No one,
however, remarked his indiscriminate drinking ;
for every one knew how potential was Eng-
land's mainstay, in that particular.
258 JACK ASHORE.
Then began the toasts — His Majesty — ^the
Royal Family— The glorious Administration.
None of these royal effusions unkennelled the fox^
or opened the mouth of the Pitt. Then uprose
Dr. Canticle, and, in a loathsomely fulsome ora«
tion, having deified the king and his prime minis-
ter, he concluded much in this way : ** If ever
there was an immortal spirit descending direct
from heaven, it inhabits that bosom ; age shall
mumble blessings upon him in its prayers ; man-
hood shall breathe only to applaud him, and
infancy shall lisp his name in conjunction with
that of its king and its God; he, he is our
saviour ; our lives, our properties — all that we
have are his, for has he not preserved them to
us all ? We offer him, we tender him every-
thing.'* (Loud cries of ** We do, we do JT) " He
has to command, and we obey. (Cheers.) If I
may now, here, drink the health of this imper-
sonation of the angelic nature by the all-hallowed
name of William Pitt — let me do it now in nine
times nine— in proposing the health of our distin-
JACK ASHORE. 259
guished guest, our friend, our patron , our
protector. This is a great day for Fortintower.**
We need not describe the cheers nor the up-
roar of applause attendant upon this outbreak
of eloquence. It subsided at length, and, stea-
died by Jack on one side, and Squire Booby-
hatch of Boobyhatch on the other, up rose the
immortalised Simpkin, and electrified his
hearers by the following splendid harangue.
" Ladies and gentlemen — I rise — never mind
— I always hiccup — in this here sitivation —
sitivation of honour and glory — damn the whigs !
— damn the opposition — (hurrah) — an oppo-
sition unmannerly, ungenerous, unneighbourly
— a beastly opposition. — (Cheering tremendous.)
Had it not been for this malignant opposition,
ladies and gentlemen, / should have got my cer-
tificate two months ago^
" Go it," roared Jack, « go it !"
** I see that rogue Issachar Chargeit ; if it
warn't for the present company, Fd just smash
his eyes out with this here empty bottle — ^'twas
i60 JACK ASHOKS.
that viUain headed the oppositioii— «he oppowd
my certificate — ^he, he — ^Bob SimpkiD) I hope
you've looked to the shop in my absencew
Mrs. Simpkin, Vjn astonished at you — hayrc
you turned that slut Dolly away ? — you have
drunk my health — Vye got new cards printed
— Fve just laid in my winter stock— -grand
assortment — ^wholesale prices — ^business carried
on as usual in my son^s name— bip^ hip, hurrah !
—charge your glasses. Success to the Empo-
rium of Fashion, Nok 8, Bogbuiy Street, and
d — ^n the oppodtion I"
And thus saying he whirled ofi^ his frizzled
whig, and dexterously lodged it, with a jerk,
upon the branches of the chandelier that hung
in the centre of the room, where it was glori-
ously consumed, and he stood confessed in his
black, strait, cropped hair — the bankrupt linen-
draper.
The confusion was tremendous. Half the
guests hurried ofi^ immediately to hide their
shame and confusion ; the other half made the
JACK ASHORE. 961
place reverberate with shouts aod roars of
lau^ter. Jack got on the cross^table, and
capered with wild delight, and the hero of
the night fell crying drunk into the arms of
his affectionate family.
Those who took the joke in good part re^
mained ; the opposing creditors were softened ;
the certificate was promised ; the orgies of the
night commenced ; and all that ensued was in-
temperance and madness.
Ultimately it did Simpkin much good ; for
they looked upon him from, that time forth,
though the least bit in the world of a rogue^
yet as a very clever fellow, and Sir John
Truepenny befriended him ever after.
262 JACr ASHORE.
CHAPTER XIII.
Jack procMdi from bad to worte-^Promifles amendment, and
learee even the hope of it behind — ^Hean fearful newa, and
is feariuUj affected— Prepares to act, and, when too late,
makes some rexy excellent reflections,
Our task becomes now a melancholy one. To
use a sea-phrase. Sir John Truepenny'*s head
had cast the wrong way. At times, his conduct
became outrageous, and his intemperance had
become habitual. To this line of conduct he
found too many inviters, too many abettors
in it. He committed every possible folly,
with the exception that he continued the honest
lawyer, Mr. Singleheart, as the sole manager
of his afiairs, and no persuasions could induce
JACK ASHOftK. 263
him to game. To these resolutions he held
like a ship in a storm riding on a lee-shore by
her sheet and best bower anchor. His amanu-
ensis also remained his true and humble
friend.
We must now take a review of the principal
characters that had influence on Jack's fate,
and their various positions at this time. Lord
Fortintower was still splendidly impressive at
the little German court, at which he more than
upheld the dignity of his sovereign. He
wearied of his indolent magnificence, longed for
activity, worldly advancement, and worldly
lucre. He was a disappointed man.
His gentle and good lady was ever the same,
excepting in happiness. She was distressed at
the continual anxieties and repinings of her
husband ; but in her unfading love she dis-
played the perfection of her character. The
god of her youthful idolatry had changed into
a mere fallible mortal, yet her affection knew
of no diminution. Perhaps she loved the more
S64 JACK A8HOBK.
tenderly, in proportion to the&iUngs that, she ao
unwillingly admitted he possessed, were forced
upon her perception. She longed again for Eng-
land, and ardently wished once more to see her
grandfather alive, and receive from him another
blessing, before he passed into the tomb.
The fat, dark-browed bumboat woman, Mr&
Snowdrop, was rapidly adding pence to diillings,
shillings to pounds, and pounds to her al-
ready considerable wealth, at her boisterous
and laborious calling; whilst her daughter, in a
first-rate establishment near London, was
equally or even more assiduous in accumu*
lating mental treasures.
The wily lawyer, Mr. Scrivener, though he
never appeared in Jack's presence, was in-
fluencing all about him, and was sometimes
under his roof without the knowledge of his
son-in-law. He still prosecuted his harassing
opposition to the Truepenny will, and was
doing everything in his power to get all the
property of both the Traepennys and Jack^'s
JACK ASHORE. 265
into bis possession ; if asked why, he certainly
could not have given a better answer than that
he wanted it
Old Truepenny dozed on in a state between
life and death, yet possessing, when aroused,
the full exercise of his faculties, and existing
only, or only wishing to exist, until the im-
portant question of the will was settled.
Giles Grimm was superlatively happy in the
command of Sir John's yacht
In this state of things the winter passed, and
the time for the meeting of parliament, and
consequently for the choice of a member for
Fortintower, was rapidly approaching. By
this time the catalogue of Jack's absurdities
was enormous, and the poor wretch knew not
that his every action was narrowly watched and
faithfully recorded. Yet, in the few intervals
that he procured of actual sobriety, his remorse
was agonising, and his resolutions of amend-
ment as sincere as they were evanescent. But
the aching head, the longing stomach, the
VOL. III. N
266 JACK ASHOEE«
trembling hand, and the ever^raving excite-
ment, demanded a little stimulant ; and thus
the excess of one day was exaggerated by the
excess of the next It must now be confessed
that his reason b^an to tremble upon her
throne ; in his whims and freaks, the wit gra-
dually became less, the extravagance more, and
his lawyer shuddered for him, when he heard
him talk of building a seargcHng vessel of two
hundred tons, upon a small piece of water in
his grounds, that had barely sufficient depth to
float a pleasure-barge. But the crisis was fast
approaching; it travelled like a thunder-cloud,
darkly, rapidly, and surcharged with ruin.
Jack saw its awful approach, and only grinned
like an idiot.
It must not be forgotten that Cdonel Chace-
hell was, all this time, an inmate at Fortintower
Hall — a sick, a sorrowing, and a wounded in-
mate—but still a most dangerous one. He
never could bring himself to think that any
other but Jack inflicted the grievous hurts.
JACK ASHORE. 267
from the effects of which he bad so long suf-
fered. He had, therefore, an ample score of
revenge to wipe off — and now, at least. Jack
was playing his game. From October to
January the colonel had been confined to his
room; but he had his consolations. Lady
Truepenny was with him constantly. Knowing
the lightness of her character, the instability of
her affections, and her total want of heart, we
need, not be told that she had fallen an easy
victim to her guest.
But from that moment her conduct towards
her husband had changed. He seemed no
longer indifferent to her; she soothed and
petted him, and Jack had determined, when
his long procrastinated reform took place, that
he would make himself the best, the most in-
dulgent, and the most assiduous of husbands.
In fact, it needed only kindness to make his
heart softer than a child's, and more loving than
that of a virgin in her first affection. But he
was blinded by his habitual intemperance ; had
n2
268 JACK ASHORE.
be been himself, he would have observed that
she rather encouraged him in his various de-
bauches, and appeared to be always a gratified
listener to all his mad freaks; so that the
pleasure of relating them to her became one of
his great incitements to perform them.
The poor deluded fellow knew not, that in
the colonel's sick room her father and herself
were repeatedly in consultation with that mili-
tary sportsman ; and the question most debated
was, ** Is it time? Is the iron hot enough to
be struck ? the pear ripe enough to be shaken ?**
In the mean time Jack began to grow very
fond of his pretty wife, and, drunk or sober, she
was continually in his mind, and her name
on his lips, whilst he never mentioned the
colonel ; indeed he seemed to have totally for-
gotten that there was a person so important
still in existence. His lady took care never to
remind him of it.
This returning fondness on the part of Sir
John for his wife might have had very benefi-
JACK ASHORE. 269
cial effects, had not events crowded upon him
too rapidly to give him, not only no time to re-
form, but even to reflect. He had lately taken
a decided inclination towards low associates.
There was a little village, to which we have be-
fore alluded, situated between»the hall and the
small town of Fortintower, called Sandburn,
which boasted of one tolerably decent alehouse,
and at this place a free-and-easy club had been
established through the activity of Groggy
Foxhead, consisting of the wildest characters of
the neighbourhood, and the hardest drinkers
of the sottish little borough of Fortintower.
Of this Jack was emperor and perpetual pre-r
sident. Here, throwing aside all the restraints
of rank, station, and decency, he shone forth in
all the dissolute glory of ebriety. He usually
attended these meetings attired as a common
sailor, and would on no account be addressed
by his title. Here he played the fiddle, whis-
tled in his exquisite manner^ danced the main-
deck hornpipe, and sang the choicest sea-songs.
270 JACK ASHORE.
His bnitified mind fed ravenouslj upoo the
adulation of his low companions, and he there
tasted of as much happiness as the present state
of his intellect was capabl€i>of enjoying. These
orgies generally terminated by Jack and the
ratcatcher seeing* every one under the table,
and then a chaise that was always waiting for
them, entrusted to the care of a prudent ser-
vant, conveyed them to the Hall, to sleep off
the effects of their intoxication. It was a
methodized madness.
Poor Mr. Singleheart often now regarded
our hero with looks of the deepest commisera-
tion, and the tears would stand in his eyes as he
attempted to wean him from his pursuits, and in-
duce him to give more attention to what passed
at home, and more particularly as respected the
conduct of his lady. His modest amanuensis,
Mr. Hawkins, also threw out such broad hints,
that at least they ought to have excited his at-
tention ; but they were of no avail. All intima-
tions that he ought to be more at home and
JACK ASHORE* 271
attentive to his lady, were not only distasteful
to him, but bitterly resented. He was deter-
mined on his own ruin in his own way.
It was the last Monday in January — a clear
sharp night, and the snow was upon the
ground, and of a considerable depth. It was also
club-night, and Sir John had been unusually
merry. By midnight he and the dog-fancier
had overthrown all their companions; those
who had not been able to stagger home, were
lying about the house in a state of stupefaction.
There was still some punch in the bowl, and
the two companions were opposite, enacting
the respective parts of Democritus and Hera*
clitus. Jack was all fun and laughter, and
the mediciner of dogs and horses all tears and
lamentation. It was the third time that the
latter had been drunk that day.
^< Now look ye, messmate,** said Jack, ^* if
you don't swab up your eyes and ship a broad
grin, may I swallow a marling-spike but I'll
273 JACK ASHORE.
Start you^ and make you sing small in Spa-
nish/'
" Now don't," said his friend ; " I honers
yer, and these here tears as is a flowing is
a flowing for you — youVe decaived, you're
diddled} you're humbugged — he laughs at you,
and she laughs at you, and they laugh at you —
all laugh at you but your dear neglected
pal, honest Foxhead, and he is kicked about
from hell to Hackney, and all 'cos he's got a
tinder heart— oh, oh, oh !" — and here his blub-
bering was increased.
" Why, you spooney gafi-topsail — you're
boiling over like a pot of lobscouce, and the
cook's mate drunk. Who laughs at me, you
rat-catching varmint ?"
" I doesn't — I cries — and sich a man too — ^a
half gallon of half-and-half, and stiff as a
broomstick — to wrong sich a man I Oh, oh !
what is this world come to ? O dear— oh, oh !"
." Who dares laugh at me ?^
JACK A8HOBE. 273
" The kurnel.'*
" The colonel— curse him ! Isn't he laid
up in the sick ward in the hospital, somewhere
in the garret? — let him laugh — it's many a
long day since I heard his name, and many a
long day may it be till I hear it again— only
just let me know that one day when he loses
the number of his mess, and it shall go hard
with me but FU contrive that a live toad shall
be buried with him in his coffin — the venomous
beast — curse him !"
Now, in this elegant dialogue, let it be
understood that both parties stuttered in their
speech considerably, and that, though seated,
their bodies swayed to and fro, as sway the
sundry eatables triced up to the mainstay of a
Yankee drogher.
^* It does my poor broken heart good to
hear ye cuss that sodger — go it again, my daffy-
down-dilly, and lay it on thick — ^because there
be a cause — Jack, a cause— I sees it who
shouldn't — a cause — ^a cause.**
M 5
274 JACK ASHORE.
'^Yet I'm even with the tbiog — ^he came
here to dupe me^to get my rhino — to make a
fool of me— play or pay. O ! I think I've
played, and he has paid — couldn't shoot flying
— couldnH ride. My shot have told, however,
and many a blowing day will come and go
before he sits in a saddle again.**^
*' He rides in your sad — ad — addle, I tell
yer— Oh ! oh !^
** You'^re drunk. Groggy, and I'm positively
ashamed of you. You are but a glass or two
better than the soaked bungs under the table :
be more of a man, and be d d to you— take
another glass to steady you, and listen to
me."
^* I's a listening and a veeping for you. The
kurneFs got the better of yer.**
^' You lie, you scum of the earth ! How
has he got the better of me?^'
" By his a vearing o' yer best hat — he's a
been valking in your floi?er-garden and a .
treading down the tulips — he's a been driving
JACK ASHORE. 275
in tenpenny nails upon your coat of arms —
a flinging mud upon yer best dimity kirtins—
and yer none the viser— d*yer twig, my covey ?"
^* You insolent eye-piping fragment of cock-
ney filth, have you the audacity to say, or to
think, that he has made free with Lady True-
penny ?"
^' Not more free than welcome, I kalkerlate
— I could veep my kidneys into fiddle-strings
for yer — oh ! oh r
*^ Come, come, Master Foxhead, stow all
that, and clap the hatches of prudence over it
— you may make your fun with me, and all's
fair and aboveboard — but 'ware my wife — I
stand no nonsense about her, messmate — you
contemptible spoon-bill. She tells me she
detests the colonel, and I know if she had
her own way, ill and disabled as he is, sheM
pack him out this very night, and the snow on
the ground three feet deep. Groggy, it won't
do — we are getting on exoellently together. It
276 JACK ASHORE*
was but this morning that, in a fit of fondness,
I promised to desert the club^ leave off grog,
put down poaching, send you packing about
your business^ and to become a decent liver,
and an honourable member of the aristocracy.
D'ye hear that, old snuff-the-wind ?"
'* And did she, was she so cruel-hearted as
to go for to make yer promise all this here?
I say. Sir John Truepenny, did she ?" — and the
respectable individual who spoke thus, cried
much less than before.
'< Sir John Truepenny in your throat, you
stale mess of porter dregs — she not only made
me promise all this, but that promise will I
faithfully keep, if there is any honesty in
me, or strength in gunpowder. So regulate
yourself thereupon, my piping bulfinch, and
the more you Sir John me, the sooner will
you see it done. So chalk that down on your
log*board."
*' Veil, the vickedness of this world is von*
JACK ASHOR£. 277
derful — shouldn't at all vonder if brimstone
and fire vas to come and destroy it this very
night. And she said this as regards me, the
only friend you both have — but I von't stand
it ; I'm too vartuous for that ere — I can't see
my friend wronged any more — Jack, before
you pours that hindiwidual punch down your
vindpipe, just yer listen to the voice of friend-
ship, and don't yer be vexed to hear that this
blessed moment yer vife's making herself quite
cozy with the kumel.^
' Jack dashed the uplifted tumbler on the
floor, and, flying upon the ratcatcher, seized
him by the throat, and nearly shook him from
his chair into the next world. At length,
relaxing his hold, and putting on a grim smile,
he exclaimed, '^ I am a fool — he is a con-
founded liar — ^and such a paltry blackguard
into the bargain. I'll give him ten pounds
to-morrow, and then order him to be horse-
whipped ofi^ the grounds, and clean out of the
estate. But look you, you foul* mouthed vil-
278 JACK ASHORE.
lain, if you ever again dare to utter such a
scandalous lie, your punishment, your misery,
shall be very dreadful. Look at me now,
you scoundrel— -you see that I am sober — and
hereafter see in me only Sir John True-
penny."
^^ Sir John Truepenny,*' said the man with
a respectful air, ^* I am now sober as well as
you. You*Il repent this vilence— I knows my
station, and I didn't valk out of it ; but you've
a dragged me — I pities you arter all — for
a^elp me God, every word I have told you is
true. Keep your hands off. Sir John — ^you're
a better man nor I — ^but this here knife will
find the vitals of a betterer man nor both of
us. So just yer listen — when yer gits home,
convince yer two precious eyes; then if I ha
lied, Fm at yer mercy — I sha'n't budge— I
only tells . yer what every one's up to but
yerself. Now, Sir John Truepenny, what will
yer do ?"
" Go mad — but first of all I'll prove — and
JACK ASHORE. 279
then — leave it to Heaven. I am a poor miser-
able worm. But we wonH be rash — -just fling
away that knife, there's a good fellow — thank
God, I have no arms about me — come along.
Is the chaise waiting? — weUl act discreetly.
Should I discover them — but I'm very weak
now — not half tlie man I was when afloat. And
go with anything dangerous about me^ I will
not — Heaven have mercy upon them, have pity
on me l^
The servant was aroused, and Jack and his
companion entered the chaise. The servant
who drove, and who never got drunk, and was
thus selected for the ofiice, was much surprised
to see how apparently sober his master and
the ratcatcher were.
Sir John, in his agony, knew not what to
say, yet could not remain silent ; so, in the
most collected manner that he could assume,
he asked the man who was driving him home, if
the household talked about his wife. He care-
280 JACK ASHORE.
lessly replied, that people said that there was
a good understanding between Sir John, his
lady, and the colonel. This was, if possible,
adding heat to the fire in his heart, wormwood
to the bitterness of his agony. He understood
that it was held that he connived at his own
shame — that he was looked upon as the pander
to his own disgrace.
When they arrived at the Hall, Sir John,
with an assumed carelessness, remarked that
neither he nor his friend had had their
whack ; so he told the servant to place spirits,
water, and tumblers in one of the parlours,
and then to go to bed, and disturb nobody.
The man obeyed ; and shortly after Jack and
the ratcatcher were left together, apparently
the only two awake in that spacious mansion.
JACK ASHORE. 281
CHAPTER XIV.
The crisis and the explosion — Colonel Chasehell gets a terri-
ble tumble, and Jack terminates, for the present, his race of
ruin in a mad run — ETOrjrthing looks black and desolate, and
nothing is left but hope.
"Don't be rash ?' was all that the affrighted
Foxhead could utter. Jack replied not, but
drank tumbler after tumbler of water. At
length, looking dreadfully pale, he stole up in
the darkness to his wife's apartment. Slowly he
took every step, and minutely he remembered
every stair. " There is still hope,'' he thought.
*^ It i^ill be a new life to me if I find her peace-
ably sleeping. Til be a new man ; for she is
very lovely, and, if properly treated, must be
very good. I have been very much frightened.
282 JACK ASHORE.
yet I will punish nobody. Oh, it will all be
right ; and what a happy life we will lead ! Ill
take again to claret and my books : the masters
shall come down, and Foxhead shall go to-mor-
row — ^yes, to-morrow. How quiet everything
is ! Can there be anything guilty going on in
this calm peace ? This is her door. The moon
shines very brighdy, but it's dreadful cold.
How I tremble ! I'll go back — why should I
torture myself? But — but — that ratcatcher
will laugh at me. Her door is ajar. She
expected me! Bless her! a thousand bless-
ings on her simple good heart! This silent
invitation to that drunken beast of a husband
is so kind — 111 reward her if I live. Hist ! I
think I hear her breathing. I'll not wake her.
I am not tipsy certainly, but I have drunk too
much ; so 111 just look upon her beauty as she
sleeps— stoop down and give her one kiss— say
over her my too much neglected prayers — and
go to my lonely room, an altered and a better
man."
JACK ASHORE. 283
There was sufficient moonlight to make every-
thing visible. His heart throbbed high when
he saw the various articles of her dress lying
carelessly about the room. He was happy.
The blood danced joyously through his veins,
and mantled warmly in his cheek one moment —
and the next, in horror, he stood like a stricken
corpse — ^pale, rigid, and with a fearful abstrac-
tion in his eyes. The bed was untenanted. It
had not been disturbed. John Truepenny fell
upon it in the excess of his anguish, and re-'
mained there for some time in utter help-
lessness.
At length he walked forth with breaking
heart and tottering steps, and joined his com-
panion below. The man started and shuddered
as he gazed upon the pallid face of his patron,
and marked the convulsive twitching of his
features^ There was a restless wildness in his
eyes that was terrible to behold ; and Foxhead
stood aghast at the mischief he had been the
means of working.
284 JACK ASHORE.
^^ Let us sit down for a while," said the in-
jured man, *^ and let us make use of the little
sense misery has left me. What I next shall
do^ I fear I shall do in madness. The black
cloud is rising from the bosom of the sea, but
I have neither the heart nor spirit to make all
snug for the storm ; no, nor the manhood to
take in a single sail. There is a darkness upon
me — nay, I am in the midst of it. I am myself
the night The black calm around me is heavy
— heavy and suffocating, as if I were drowning
in a sea of ink ; and it is very chill and icy
also."
" Don't talk so, Sir John Truepenny ; pray
don't yer talk so!^ said the affrighted rat-
catcher.
^* It is better ; I must act soon, and my acting
will be worse than my talking. I tell you that
I am in obscurity— everything is cold and dark
about me — dark and cold — dark and cold — dark
and cold r
The ratcatcher rose very carefully, snuffed
JACK ASHORE. 285
the candles, stirred up the fire, and half filled
a tumbler of brandy for the mourner.
" Never did a poor worn-out crew, with their
craft at midnight on a lee-shore; pant for light
as I do-light— light r ,
Groggy lighted the two wax-candles in the
bedroom candlesticks, and then the large ar-
gand lamp, and muttered, *^ He's grumbling
for light — and he's lightheaded already."
" O for the light of other days — for the
freshening sea«breezes — ^for the laugh of the
heart — ^for the springing step of health — for the
careless shout of happiness — O for the honest
faces of my jovial shipmates — the meanest
among them— was he not a lord, a prince, com-
pared to the slaver-sucking reptiles around me ?
All here is deceit, and treachery, and villany.
O for the honest countenances of my old ship-
mates ! Where, in this detested place, is there a
pleasant countenance to look upon ? — 'Tis the
frank honest countenance that I love, but I see
nothing here but despicable faces — faces ugly
with sheer villany !''
286 JACK ASHOAE.
"Vastly civil — vastly!** grumbled his com-
panion. ^* I hadn't the making of my face, or
Pd a bettered the sample ;"** but speaking loud
enough for the distracted wretch to hear him,
he continued, "Begging your pardon, Sir John,
but if s thought my lady is mortal pretty.^^
" D — n herj how could I ever have thought
so ? — blinded fool that I was ! — she pretty ! — the
most loathsome witch that ever fed upon the
venom of her own heart is more comely than
that — that — being without a name. Her eyes
are soft and blue, like the deep deep sea — ^what
o' that ? Her cheeks are round and fair, and
the blush upon them is as rich as the first streak
of a summer morning — what of that ? — you fool !
what of that ? And then her hair — ^it is gold
itself, touched with silver — bright and soft ! —
but her lips — they are only like little rosebuds
for truth and love to repose on together — they
are lips indeed ; — when you have seen them, all
others will seem nothing but so many fiesh-
traps to let food in, and Ues out — but to see her
JACK ASHORE.
287
lips smiling— beware, or you'll be an undone
wretch, as I am I**
** Well,"' murmured the dog-fancier, " for an
ugly woman this is a very fair specimen."
« Then the outlines of her perfect form I A
well-cut topsail properly set ; or a white cloud,
behind which the moon loves to play hide and
seek — or a swan — or a frigate at rest upon the
waters, are very graceful things ; but what are
these to the charming outline of her figure, as she
moves gently like a light breeze over the sea,
or when she is still in the soft loveliness of her
quiet ^but don*t you see, with all this, she is
as ugly as the woman of Endor ?"
" Carft exactly say as how I does."
^' Don't you see something devilish behind
all this beauty— a demon housed in a woman —
a fiend that looks through her eyes, soils the
smile on her lips— makes the blush on her cheek
like a canker — turns all her charms to a dis-
ease, making her more ugly by her very beauty.
The woman is false and transparent — I see
288 JACK ASHORE.
through her, but the devil beneath is real — she
is uglier than sin — she is sin herself."
*^ Yes, yes, I see it all now,"^ said bis com-
panion, wishing to soothe him ; ** she is precious
ugly."
^^ You lie, you base pickthank — you lie,
and that abominably ! — she is beautiful as the
young day ;"— then bursting into tears, he sob-
r
bed forth, ** And being so beautiful, how could
she be so bad ?*'
After .his passion of tears had a little sub-
sided, he continued, " I am not here to pipe
my eye, like a young girl who has just lost
her linnet — the ^* bloody hand^ is the emblem
of my order — I have come to act — but it's not
yet time. I should go raving mad, did I find
them waking, and at their dalliance. No, no ;
we will deal gently with her, poor thing ! when
she eats the bitter bread of shame, it will be
piroishment enough ; for, in truth, I have not
been good to her. Perhaps we need not wake
her at all — would to Heaven that we could do it
without !"
JACK ASHOBE. 1289
*« Do what, Sir John ?"
" Oh, nothing dreadful — nothing bloody.
They are sleeping together— my wife and my
friend — and the law of man says, or I have
heard wrong — I may slay them together — mingle
their blood, as they have disgraced mine. This
is the law of God, as delivered by Moses. But
this I will not do— for I have not been good
myself— but I must not father the children of
a harlot and a traitor*-so I shall be very quiet,
and much more merciful than just-r-I am a
poor wretched dupe, but, you see, a cheerful
one. We have an hour to spare yet, so we'll
be comfortable. Well have some more grog —
but we must not get drunk again, my thrice
worthy confident — only take a little to keep off
this deadly chill ; and — besides — hark ye — by
that time the moon will be a good deal down —
and I would not have too much light on our
shame — I have loved her, you devil — and I
would spare her this exposure, if I could."
" Why expose her at all ? I'll answer for
VOL. III. o
290 JACK ASHORE.
heavydens enough to get jer a diTorce — take
it easy, good Sir John***
^^ I do, mail — I doi but — ** and he grinned
demoniacally, *' Whore, is she dreaming now ?
«
Where, where?"
They sipped their gro^ but it was bitter to
them. The dog-fancier tremUed yexy mucfat
and bad already heartily relented of the part
he had taken. He was much alarmed at
the whole appearance of Sir John — ^indeed he
said afterwards, that if he had not lost sight of
him, but for so short a time since he made the
fatal disclosure, in two hours he was so much
changed that he should not have known him.
The time lagged heavily, and it was until
two o^clock that Sir John had postponed his
acting.
^' Come," said our heroi, *' you don^t write
the best scrawl — ^but one can read it — I must
do something or begin to dance about like a
maniac. Just jot down all I've gained by
being made a barpnet — I should like to balance
JACK ASHO&E. 291
accounts — ^for what may happen the next hour
is known only to the Almighty. Put down, I
made a fool of myself an the first day — dis-
gusted my best friend — drank myself to the
very verge of madness — played the drivelling
mountebank before all Portsmouth — the whole
Channel fleet looking on, and laughing at me —
despised and hurt the affections of a girl who
truly loved me — cheated her mother — got
pelted and disgraced — arrested for debt — an
action brought against me for breach of pro-
mise of marriage — married a common prostitute
— was the cause of transporting her for life —
forced to sneak away from Portsmouth like the
paltry ass that I am — the fool at the sea-port
was thrice the fool in London — destroyed the
hopes of my benefactor— got his wife^s property
thrown into Chancery, where it will remain for
ever and one day after-t-carried mischief where-
ever I went-— got into two duels, and myself in
the wrong — ^instead of profiting by my masters,
went into evil society, took to low courses, hard
o 2
292 JACK ASHORE.
drinking, and squandered my property on such
sneaking lubbers as yourself."
^' Please, Sir John, it's agin my conscience
to write down such a big lie as that ere."
^* Well ; say I squandered my wealth on
such brilliant, respectable, and virtuous charac-
ters as Colonel Chacehell and Groggy Fox-
head. Then, the worst folly of all — I con-
sulted my eye, and not my heart, when I
married — O heavens! — and when at last I
really began to love — never mind — since I have
come to the country — how have I acted — ^who
esteems meP who respects me? — what an excellent
seaman has been spoiled to make a miserable,
wretched man of quality ! I have not been
twelve months on shores and is there a more
suffering wretch than myself breathing ? O
that I was again on the watch-bill of the Old
Glory, and all that has taken place had never
been !"
** I could jot down summut on toother side,
if so be as how you'd let me.'*
JACK ASHORE. 293
sc
Do it to-morrow, if you will — hark ! It
has struck two. It sounded like the tolling of
the bell over the dead. How silent, how dread-
fully, drearily silent it is ! Why don't you
speak, you hound — hush — here, take this pistol
— don^t shake, man— you see I am quite un-
armed — ^go up softly and stand at his door —
you know, you know. His name would choke
me. Suffer no one to come out — ^not even her ;
that is all — do this, and your reward shall be
great"
The rat-catcher shuddered and departed.
Sir John then gained admittance to Mr.
Singleheart's bedside, and said to him between
his teeth, ** Lady Truepenny is not in her bed-
room. Turn out"
*' I feared as much," said the good lawyer,
as he shuffled into his slippers, and wrapped
his dressing-gown closely about him. '* But do
nothing rash, Sir John."
" Never fear — I only want evidence— we
wonH hurt a hair of her head — ^but we'll have
plenty of evidence."
294 JACK A8H0EE.
They went together and roused young Mr.
Hawkins, and the three soon found themselves
at the CoLonel'^s bed-room door, where the
shivering Foxhead stood an unwilling sentinel
They found the door fastened. It was an
awful moment, and Mr* Singleheart in a low
whisper, wishing to temporise^ advised that a
watch should be placed there until the mora-
ing. But in tliis caution, so exaaperating to
Sir John, the young amanuensis did not parti-
cipate. He and Sir John simultaneously united
their strength, and, with one sudden crash, the
door was burst open. The scene was dreadful —
the shriek of shame terrific Sit John looked
not on his wife, but using all the power of his
muscular frame, he seized the Colonel, and lift-
ing up his slight figure^ as if it had been that
of a child, bore him across the room, and dash-
ing him through the window frames the base
seducer lay groaning with mangled limbs and
broken bones beneath. It was well for him
that the snow lay so deep on the ground, or he
JACK A8H0RS. 295
would have died on the instant, so great was
the height from which he had been dashed.
For the short remnant of his miserable life he
remained a disgusting and a helpless cripple.
The shattering of the glass and the shrieks
of the mangled Ccdonel were still mingling
with the wild screams, of Lady Truepenny,
when a figure in a night*dress just showed itself
within the door of the room. It caught Sir
John^s eye, and he shouted high above the din,
** My arch enemy !^ and rushed after it. The
pursued fled for his life. It was Mr. Scrivener,
who had been, for some time, domesticated
in the house, without the knowledge of its
master. Sir John, in his eagerness, fell over
the sentinel at the door, and when he arose,
his victim was not to be seen ; but his pursuer,
hearing the hall-door open and close, fancied
he had left the house, and rushed out after
him. Long and mad was that pursuit of no-
thing. The winds arose, and the wreaths of
snow that danced before his frantic eyes misled
296 JACK ASHORE.
the DOW actual maniac, all the livelong nigbt,
over the country and through the dreary woods.
It was not till next mid-day that he was dis-
covered sitting in a miserable hovel, tearing to
pieces, with tooth and nail, the decayed corpse
of a robber who had been hung in chains, and
which he fancied to be his father-in-law. He
was raving mad.
JACK A8H0BE. 297
CHAPTER XV.
Rays of hope and comfort — Old and true friends re>appear —
Jack escapes— Goes to sea— Conclosion.
A WHOLE year has elapsed, and it is the anni-
versary day of June on which Jack stepped on
shore at Portsmouth, in high health, and in the
perfection of manhood, a baronet — with every
prospect before him that wealth, station, and
an almost unfettered free will could offer. Be-
hold what he now is I
But we must first state that Mr. Scrivener
never left the house, and when Sir John was
brought back a maniac, took possession of all,
o5
S98 JACK ABHORS.
and the direcdon of everything. Lady True-
penny recovered her equanimity surprisingly ;
and when, for the sake of appearances, the
almost djring Colonel was removed from the
hall, she seemed not only never to have cared
for him, but often spoke of him with con-
tempt.
Mr. Singleheart and the young amanuensis
knew not how tO' act Lord Fortintower was
in a distant country, and Mr. Scrivener was
subtle and active. A writ de lunaiioo inqm-
rendo on Sir John Truepenny was immediately
issued, and the madness being apparent, the
jury found no hesitation in saying so, and the
custody of his person and the management of his
property very naturally fell to his wife and father*
«
in-law. That unworthy pair abandoned Fortin-
tower Hall, and, coming to London, made a
great display, and became highly fashionable.
As Mr. Scrivener punished every rumour to
their disadvantage by prosecutions under the
libel law, and the servants who had been witnesses
JACK ASHORE. 299
of the disgrace of the d6nouemeni were well
paid and provided for. Lady Truepenny en-
joyed as good a reputation as did most of the
ladies of ton. Indeed, the heartless beauty
was not only tolerated, but courted and flat"
tered, and both she and her father now sunned
themselves ia the midday of their prosperity.
Madhouses are not places of enjoyment at
present— formerly they were improvements upon
the infernal regions. Poor Jack was immured
in one of the worst^-but where, was a secret
known only to his wife and father-in-law — and
that secret was penetrated only by the in-
tense, unswerving love of a woman whose love
was true.
It was a beautiful day in June, and in his
desolate cell, with ring-bolts around him, straw
beneath him, and chains upon him, poor, poor
Jack sate between two persons. His once mus-
cular frame was gaunt, and his sinews seemed
like so many cords laced about his massive
skeleton. He had been very violent, and his
300 JACK ASHORE.
back was wealed with the blows that had beoi
administered to tame him. Gkxl, and his
troubles, for wise purposes, had deprived him
of his reason ; but his own wife and father-in-
law, for wicked ones, had deprived him of his
name— he was called here John Jones*— and
this was the third madhouse of which he had
been an inmate. He had been removed from
one to another, and his name changed for the
most villanous designs. He was now in a
remote part of the country, where it was sup-
posed he never could be traced. It is a matter
of little doubt but that he would have been
systematically murdered, had not his estates
been so strictly entailed, and her moderate
jointure the only benefit that would accrue to
Lady Truepenny on the death of her hus>
band.
There had been some favourable symptoms
lately in Jack^s case. Indeed, the doctors had
always said that his malady was not constitu-
tional — that it had been produced only by ex-
JACK ASHORE. 301
cessive excitement acting upon habitual in-
temperance. However, just now, the ill-used
sufferer was troubled very little with doctors
or their opinions. He was in the hands of a
mercenary rascal, who looked not to his cure^
but to his safe custody.
In his cell was Jack sitting on this memora-
ble day ; the person on his right was an old
weather-beaten, grayheaded man, with some-
thing of the sailor in his appearance, but not
much ; he was sitting on the floor, with a pair
of large iron-rimmed spectacles on his nose,
and a large Bible open on his knees before him,
from which he was reading, in a very solemn
but somewhat monotonous tone, the account of
Jonah's unfortunate voyage to Ninevah. The
other person was a young female, dressed, if
not quite like a quakeress, yet with a degree of
precision that spoke of a distaste to worldly
vanities ; she was exceedingly beautiful, though
very pale; she held the patient's emaciated
\
302 JACK ASHORS.
hand fondly in her own, and was looking in-
tently and tenderly into his large bine eyes.
When the elderly man came to the words,
and read, *' But Jonah was gone down into the
sides of the ship^" Jack said, ^ ^Vast there,
shipmate, you mean into the hold."
The female flushed all over, and trembled
exceedingly. These were the first words he
had uttered in sensible connexion with what
was passing about him. '* Hush !" said she,
** be silent^ and wait.**
Jack rubbed his eyes, and looked about him,
and then upon his two companions; rubbed
them again, and again looked — ^but what he
saw seemed to afford him no satisfaction, for he
shook his head despondingly.
The old man closed his Bible gently; he
could see no more, for his eyes were overflow-
ing with tears.
She then tried distant allusions to awake in
Jack the remembrance of the past, and thus to
JACK ASHOSE. 303
connect it with a rational consideration of the
present. There was an old song to which, as
she fancied that it shadowed out her own case,
she was very partial ; and as it was very simple
in its construction, she soon taught the man she
idolized to love it also.
The following are the words, which she sang,
in a subdued voice, to a slow and somewhat
plaintive tune: —
1.
I bad a young sister
Who dwelt beyond sea.
And many the lore-gifts
She sent onto me :
She sent me a cherry
Without any stone.
She sent me a doye too
Without any bone
She sent me an orange
Without any rind ;
Bade me love without passion
The man of my mind.
304 JACX A8HOBE.
How coald any cherry
Be found without stone 1
How could a young dove too
Exist without bone 1
How could any orange
Be found without rind 1
Or a young maiden loriog
Cast passion behind 1
Yihea the cherry was flower.
Then had it no stone ;
When .the dove was an egg.
Then had it no bone ;
When the orange was blossom.
Then had it no rind ;
In the first love of maiden
No passion we find.
This song made Jack restless, and, at times,
seemed to afford him some glimpses of what
was really passing around him ; but these were
JACK ASHOK£. 305
transitory, and he again relapsed into uncon-
sciousness.
The female then commenced singing a low
and plaintive sea song, " Far, far at sea," for-
merly Jack^s particular favourite. The first
notes seemed to surprise him ; he then lay back
against the wall of his cell and closed his eyes,
but waved his hand to the undulations of the
air. At the second verse he shed tears pro-
fusely, and when it was finished he sat upright,
and looked upon both of them wistfully. At
last he said, ** Where am I ? — this should be
honest old Giles Grimm, and this dear, dear
little Susan.*"
For some time neither of them could speak
from excess of emotion. At length Susan said,
*' You have been very ill, John ; you must not
talk yet ; do try to sleep — ^you will be so happy
now— only sleep."
** Susan, you never spoke to poor Jack but
for his good ; I will sleep, if each of you will
keep hold of my hand— I have lost you for
906 JACK ASHORE*
many years, and we must never any of us part
again — never — never —never !" and, murmar-
ing these words, he fell into a happy and tran- ,
quil slumber.
After some rime be awoke a little confused
in his mind as to past events, but quite ra-
tionaL At first, he fancied himsdf on board
the Glory, and that he had been put in irons
for some misdemeanor, and asked if he had
been cook of the mess, and if Captain Fire-
brass was very savage; bat by dq;rees^ and
with admirable tact and delicacy, Susan made
him aware of his actual situation.
Jack was broken-spirited and excessively
weakened, so it must not be an impugnment
to his manhood that he cried like a child, and,
like a child^ for some time, would not be com-
forted. He viewed the chain round his waist,
and, in very truth, the iron entered his soul.
When he entreated for his liberty and some
decent apparel, his friends acquainted him that
it was absolutely necessary that, for the present.
JACK ASHORE. 307
his keepers should not be apprised of his re-
covery ; and that if he would be in all things
obedient, there was for him the hope of imme-
diate freedom* They cautioned him, when the
keeper made his rounds, which would be
shortly, to appear to be sullen, and on no ac-
count to speak.
Freedom I The word was like the gushing
forth of a spring of water to his feverish soul.
He promised, and then Susan, kissing his
hand, tripped away. The miserable man fol-
lowed her with his eyes, and, when she disap-
peared, shuddered with apprehension. At
length he turned to Grimm, and said to him,
^* Dear father, may I speak a little .^"
** No, you must hold on all fast—- I'm one of
the keepers, and I am to start you preciously
if you ain't quiet."
" O my living God ! has it come to this ?
But I wUl speak, if you — ^you — ^my heart's
brother — my old father — were to cut my heart
out — I will speak. Where is Susan gone ?"
308 JACK ASHORE.
/^ That angel has gone to look after the
other patients. Jack, hold your tongue, and be
d d to you ; if any one oomes, mind your
eye — ^look a little wicked or so. The Lord love
yoU| my dear boy, d'ye think I ever laid hand
on you ? No, ray darUng, when you have been
most rombusticus, I have only held you in my
arms, and tried to stifle your cries by my own
voice. That thong has never yet touched you,
though I am forced to have it by me. Now
don't ye talk — I suppose I may — I should have
known nothing of your having lost the com-
mand of your helm, hadn^t it a been for
Susan.*"
*^ God Almighty bless her with all good-
ness— -with all prosperity — I can't help it,
father !''
*' Amen ! but trouble enough she had to
trace you from one den of darkness to another,
and here she is — ^got herself hired at low wages
as nurse. She is Susan Smith here, and I'm
her father — proud of the title. Jack ; so she
JACK ASHORE. 309
got me the place of under-keeper — she wound
round the heart of the hang-dog who calls
himself captain of this craft of misery. Though
I've lived so long, she is seven times wiser than
I ; and nothing shall be done but as she directs
—hush !"
At this moment, the ferocious-looking pro-
prietor of the madhouse made his appearance ;
he looked angry, and, what was worse, suspi-
cious. Jack put on a grimace diabolically
wicked, old Grimm had his Bible open in a
moment, and was poring over it through his
spectacles.
*' What talking was that I heard ?^
Talking, yer honour," said the old man ;
I was merely reading the Bible aloud — it
seems to soothe the patient like — he^s always
quietest when I reads him a chapter."
^' The lash, man ! the lash is the thing/' So
saying, he passed on.
If the recording angel blotted out my uncle
Toby's oath with a tear, must he not have
310 JACK ASHORE.
rubbed out the old sailor's lie with an apprcnr-
ing smile, although it was told over the BiUe —
especially as the honest creature immediately
afterwards exclaimed, ^ God forgive me for
lying, with his precious word on my knees ?**
Shortly afterwards Susan returned, and found
Jack so composed and rational^ that she ven-
tured to give him some nourishing food, whidi
he ate ravenously, and proceeded to release
him from his chain. How fervently the perse-
cuted wretch blessed her in his heart I
All the livelong day she was in and out of
his cell, smiling peacefully and conversing
cheerfully ; all subjects of painful interest she
carefully avoided ; and to every question that
Jack put about past occurrences, her only reply
was, ^* Wait till to-morrow, when we are at
liberty.'* This so |deasantly tempered disap-
pointment with the sweetest hope, that the
inquirer was satisfied.
That evening Susan also told a story, and we
hope that she too had a good-natured recording
JACK ASHOBB. 811
angely for she report^ to the head-keeper and
to the medical visiter^ ^ No alteration in John
Jones,"
The next morning Jack was not only collected,
but renovated. To deceive the people of the
establishment, he consented to be again fastened
up» but he walked about as much as the limits
of his chain would permit, anxiously inquiring
when he should be allowed to escape — profess^
ing himself to be equal to walk fifty miles at
least He was told to wait till night, and do
all he could to acquire strength*
During the course of the day he was grap
dually informed that all his property was under
the administration of his wife and father-in-law,
and that it would require the greatest care and
attention on his part legally to prove his sanity,
and to regain the direction of his own affairs.
" And noWf my dear John,*^ said Susan, " since
I have done something for you, do you some-
thing for me in return — make me a promise^'*
*' All, all that I have^ is yours — my life
312 JACK ASHOBE.
now, my property when I get it — henceforth I
will not break a crust of bread, nor drink a cup
of water, but with your leave and by your
bounty-"
** No, uOf I only ask you to forswear intem-
perance.''
** I swear solemnly,^ said he, going upon his
knees, *^ not a drop of spirits, not a taste of
wine, not even the moisture of any strong drink,
shall pass these lips, even if life — *"*
« Hold, hold !*' said she, " I will not have
this oath — it will break itself. Swear only
never more to get intoxicated."
** I swear it ! May Heaven assist me to keep
my oath P
** Use the Creator^s gifts freely, yet dis-
creetly. The grape was never made to bloom
on the vine, only to ripen into maturity and rot.
Only promise me, John, the moment that you
find yourself the least heated, to pronounce the
word madness ; and should the evil that's in
you induce you to take another cup, only say
JACK ASHORE. 313
' Susan/ and then, dear John, break your
oath if you can/'
" I could not. All this I solemnly pro*
mise.
'* I am satisfied — it would be well, if for the
next six months you regulated your diet entire-
ly by the advice of a physician.^
** This also will I scrupulously do.**
Sir John then fell into a melancholy musing,
and at length he sorrowfully said, ** So every
thing is gone. The lawyer with his dragon's
claws has everything. My yacht, my beautiful
yacht — I hope she was not broken up?"
Old Giles stood bolt upright ; he took off his
spectacles, and put them in his pocket proudly,
as if he wanted them no more — he hitched up
his trousers, and slapped the seat of them with
his right hand, and placed his left arm a-
kimbo ; then he sprang up and cut a very re-
spectable caper ; he was twenty years younger
in a moment ; he then grinned — the grin be-
came a chuckle — the chuckle a laugh, and the
VOL. III. p
314 JACK ASHORE.
luugh such a shout of triumph, that Susan was
forced to thrust a handkerchief half down bis
throat, to prevent him alarming the other
keepers.
" My son," said he, " * The Lively Ann** is all
a tanto. I got timely notice of the law-sharks.
All that angel's doing, I believe. I up killick
and away. I ses, ses I, to my pretty boys, —
' They Ve driven the governor mad, those land-
sharks, they have — he'll come to again — and
should he find his craft got into the lawyer's
grab, he^U be off stark again — wages be d d,^
ses I, * in this here predicament' * Wages be
d— d,' said they all, men and boys. Well, we
agreed to keep her right and tight for you— so
away we went — well, down Channel we goes —
and when I gets to Truro, I writ to your good
man, Mr. Singlebeart, and told him what we'd
done. So he writes back and says, we've done the
illegal thing — that he couldn'^t know nothing
about it — ^it was a bad business — that he should
not be surprised to hear that the craft bad been
JACK ASHOBfi. 815
taken by a French privateer — that there were some
snug little coves in the Hebrides — that he rather
thought Sir John was indebted to the crew for
pay and provisions, so he forwarded a bank
bill for two hundred and fifty — that he advised
us to give the property up to your representa-
tivesi if we were not taken — but he really
thought that if you recovered, it would break
your heart to find the vessel gone; but he could
say no more on the matter, and must not be
again written to about it — that if I called at
the banker's at Truro three months hence, and
said who I was, I might hear of something;
and so he bid God to speed me, and pray for
your recovery."
" Excellent, ill-used man ! and what then ?"
«' I put the end of that and that together—
so I victuals the beauty, and oflFers the chaps
their wages in advance — true-blue Jacks —
wouldn't take a scuddick — so up anclior and
off. Just gets in the Chops of the Channel,
p 3
316 JACK A8H0RK.
and hails a homeward bound West logian.
* What's that craft ? says she. < The Twitchem
yacht,* says L ' What news ?' says she. ^ Bad
enough,' says I ; * our consort, the Lively Ann,
Sir John Truepenny's yacht, was captured this
morning by two French lugger privateers; look
to yourself; why did you leave your convoy ?'
* Ran ahead to get the choice of the market,'
«
says he. ' More fool you,' says I. * Keep me
company,' says he, * till I meet a man of war«
and I'll give you a couple o' turtle and a cask
of rum, for a rakish looking craft you are.'
Well, the bargain was struck, we got the turtle
and the stuff, and I sees her safe right into the
Channel Fleet — spied the Old Glory, hauls my
wind, and ran off like a shot — ^and in eight and
forty hours runs the craft into a snug cove in
one of the Orkneys, that I believe hasnU got a
nam^ for there is nothing living upon the
island but sea-gulls ; and there the lads have
nothing all day to do but play at quoits and
JACK ASHORE. 317
skittles. The story of the yacht being taken
went through all the papers."
'* I wish I was on board of her. But how
came you to find me out, father ?**
'' Couldn't be comfortable till I heard of
you — ran over to Plymouth— landed myself,,
went to Portsmouth and saw Mother Snowdrop
and our angel Sue — we searched you out from
place to place^ and here we are."
^^O that we were on board the Lively
Anne !"
That night the three walked quietly out
from this den of iniquity — as Susan had a pass-
key, and had provided Jack with a complete
suit of sailor^s clothes. The exulting happiness
of our hero was indescribable^ but he kept his
transports admirably under command. Having
plenty of money, the party made a few detours,
and travelled easily and fared well. In the
space of a week they reached Portsmouth,
where Susan was left with her mother. The
two friends, by the means of a coasting vessel.
318 /ACK ASHORE.
got to Liverpool, from whence^ hiring a decked
boat, they made for the Orkneys^ and in less
than a fortnight Jack was again gloriously
happy in the full enjoyment of his health and
his faculties, and the command of the ^ Lively
Anne."*
At this time Mr. Scrivener and Lady True-
penny were lapped in luxurious security, for
the madhouse keeper had not dared to make
known Jack's escape.
Jack himself would have given them but
little trouble. He was so superlatively happy
when again afloat, that he could listen to
nothing about land, or the land's doings. No
sooner was he fairly on board the yacht than
he put to sea, and carefully kept out of sight
of shore. In this way he passed two months,
the happiest of the happy ; and the first uneasy
moment he experienced was, when he was
obliged to near the shore for provisions. He
dreaded the very sight of it, and was a little
inclined to change his name, and enter on
board some man-of-war going foreign.
JACK ASHORE. 319
At length, when his water was all gone, he
put into Plymouth, and there he was induced
to write to Mr. Singleheart. He came to him
immediately, and the good man's joy was ex-
cessive to find his client so perfectly restored,
and in such excellent health ; the voyage had
completely re-established him. But it was
now time for action. Jack begged hard for
another cruise, but the lawyer gained his
point. With tears in his eyes, Jack saw the
yacht sail without him, and he went to town with
his lawyer. Lord and Lady For tin tower had
lately arrived, and to them Sir John repaired, and
with them remained incognito. We have now
no time to chronicle rejoicings, or to expatiate
on explanations.
The first notice that Mr. Scrivener received
that things were not going on smoothly, was
his being served with a writ of habeas corpus
to produce the body of Sir John Truepenny.
This was at the instance of Lord Fortintower.
It then transpired that Sir John ^had escaped-
320 JACK ASHORE.
The next proceeding was the summoning of
another jury upon Jack's intellects. It was a
trying ordeal, but he bore it manfully and
coolly. It took place at his lordship^ Scri-
vener had the hardihood to attend it, and with
counsel. It was fatal to him. In endeavouring
to stop Lord Fortintower^ or rather Jack's
counsel, in the examination of a witness who was
fast proving that Mr. Scrivener had connived
at his own daughter's adultery, and that that was
the proximate cause of Sir John's temporary
derangement, he was seized with a fit, and
removed from the court in a state of insensi-
bility, which, in twenty-four hours, terminated
in his death. The verdict was unanimous in
^ favour of Sir John's complete re-establishment,
and the star of his prosperity was again in the
ascendant He had now grown wise^ and was
moderate in all things.
A suit for criminal conversation was institu-
ted against Colonel Chacehell : the feeble
cripple shortly afterwards died in the jail for
JACK A8H0BE. 321
which he had been cast for the damages;
whilst Lady Truepenny, coming into possession
of her father's wealth, seemed not only to be
contented with her lot, but to live in great
happiness. A divorce followed in due time,
and, at last. Sir John did that which he should
have done at first — married Susan Snowdrop,
and, putting himself completely under her
directions, became a very respectable coun-
try gentleman; and she prepared him, after
two years' tuition and probation, to represent
his own borough in parliament It is very
true that he became a great deal too fond of
yachting ; but as his wife liked it, it shall not
be we who will be severe in our' condemna*
tion.
With Mr. Scrivener died all difficulty about
the Truepenny will. The property devolved
upon Lord Fortintower. Old grandfather
Truepenny passed away very happily, having
lived to bless two great grandchildren, both
boys ; and as Lord Fortintower rapidly rose to
322 JACK A8H0BE.
marquis, and, though very old, may still live
to be duke, he became the most amiable of
men, the most attached of husbands, the best
of fathers, and the most loyal of subjects.
Old G^mm got immensely fat before be died,
but he died comfortably, having died at sea,
with the consciousness that he would be buried
in that element on which he had loved to live.
Sir John and Lord Fortintower for many
years increased their families, d Penm Vun de
rautre — but Jack beat his cousin in the long-
run by two, which is to him one source of great
exultation ; another is, that he might be a lord
any day he likes, but he leaves that folly for his
eldest son Jack, now a post-captain. However,
he envies old Grimm the place of his death, and
the manner of his burial, and don't half like
the look of the family vault.
Though Susan was humbly bom, and at first
wretchedly educated, she adorned her rank, and
made the happiness, not only of her husband, but
that of all who came within her influence.
JACK ASUOAE. 323
She has always endeavoured to impress this on
her children — that it is more easy to bear up
against misfortune, than to support prosperity ;
that man's prudence and his powers are tried
by the former, but his very soul by the latter ;
and that more woe and misery is to be guarded
against from one sudden and unexpected good,
than from a whole train of foreseen evils.
She was right ; for adversity tries a man,
prosperity spoils him ; and Pope was quite cor-
rect when he wrote,
For Satan, grown mnoh wiser tban of yore.
Now tempts bj making rich, not making poor.
THK END.
LONDON!
2BOT60N AND PALMER, PRIMTSRS, SAVOT 8T&XST, BTRA2«D.
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